Tinker, Tailor, Soldier,Thief?
by MagnetTarpit
Summary: Aiyana is a thief. The world took everything from her and her sisters,now she will take whatever she wants from the world. Until, she makes the fatal mistake of stealing from a Sarmation knight. Tristan/OC Dagonet/OC. All knights alive.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One: Bold as Brass

Aiyana Boon did not suffer fools gladly. She had once been a woman of great standing; eldest niece to a rich uncle and heir to his entire estate, an estate granted to him by the Holy Pope for services to Rome and thus to God himself. She was a student of history, mathematics, languages and art. She had been raised as an equal to all men and better than many.

She was short for a woman and petite to the extreme, her hips were not too rounded but they gave her some shape, her skin was pale white and her hair the warm rich brown of imported coffee beans she once drank in Rome. Fierce grey eyes set either side of a delicate nose peppered with freckles watched the world intently, her plump heart shaped mouth lifted in a tiny smile at the sight of the bumbling roman centurion. She had found her meal ticket. She felt neither guilt nor apprehension at the task which lay ahead of her; she took only from those who could afford it and she most certainly deserved every coin that sat in the fat leather purse. She would not allow her sisters to go without.

Slipping from the alcove in which she had tucked her small frame, Aiyana wound her way through the throngs of people gathered to celebrate the second anniversary of the victory of Badon Hill. Some Romans had chosen to remain and defend England but only with Arthur's assurance that their wages would remain generous and that they would all be given the chance to try for a seat at the round table as a Knight of King Arturius, none but one had succeeded. They were nothing like the skilled and watchful men who patrolled the streets of her beloved Rome; these men's minds where as weak as their feeble bodies. Aiyana had no respect for her fellow countrymen.

The lift was easy; pick pocketing was a little above her skill level but the man deserved to be taught a lesson. No fool should walk the streets with such a blatant show of wealth; he had adorned his temperamental horse with bejewelled tack and a gilded saddle, his clothes had been dyed an expensive looking red, and his purse was large and gaudy. The large dark mare he rode had a hard mouth from him dragging furiously at the bit, he dismounted clumsily putting unnecessary strain on the poor girls back, there were new scabs on her knees (most likely from jumping a high stone wall) and her sides were covered in welts from the lash he kept strapped to his belt.

Tucking her prize beneath the multitude of hidden pockets she had sewn into her volume of dull grey skirts Aiya slipped away from the crowds into a dark alley to watch the people. There were commoners and their families dressed in their best for the festivities, whores lingered on the edge of the crowd as the sun slipped from the sky, the night belonged to them and everyone knew it. Soldiers strolled casually; they were in high spirits no doubt having taken advantage of the cheaply priced ale provided by the generous King Arthur, Romans mingled with Britons and the odd Woad dared to join the group. A law had been passed forbidding unlawful violence between any race within the Arthur's Kingdom; it was fiercely enforced by him and his knights. Any who dared to break the tenuous peace bought by his marriage to a Woad risked a flogging or, if the crime was a serious one, a hanging.

Aiyana did not know what to make of the Woad Queen or the King's Sarmation knights; her uncle had entertained the brightest minds in the land when she and her sisters had lived in Rome. She had the benefit of growing and learning surrounded by the world's greatest philosophers; some had preached the maintenance of the old order whilst a few liberal minded men had advocated a new age of man. All born equal under god despite the colour of their skin or the name of their god. These had been the men who fascinated her most; they had dared to suggest something so radical as to be labelled blasphemous, Aiyana had found she had a fondness for scandal.

She did not care that her Queen's blood was Woad, what had shocked her was the sight of a woman in breeches wearing naught more that a sliver of leather across her chest riding into battle by the side of men. It had sent a shiver of excitement racing down her spine; Aiyana had the intelligence of any educated man but this woman equalled them physically. It was a concept alien to her. The Knight's were easier to understand; they spent their evenings drinking heavily in any tavern that would serve them, accompanied by whores and strumpets. They were slaves to alcohol, sex and violence. All in all they were men. But they defended a land not their own, they served a King not of their own blood and they swore fealty to a country which had made them slaves. She could not understand their motivation and it irked her.

As the last light of the day gave way to the dull orange glow of torches Aiya gave up on her quest for another easy target and slipped a few silver coins from her victim's purse. She wove in and out of the hordes easily; her size allowed her to be nimble and she had covered her beautiful hair in a knot of grey cloth, her svelte body in swathes of ugly grey clothes. She looked boring and unobtrusive as was her aim. Aiyana found it easy to live and work in the same town when she could make herself invisible to most people by simply looking as plain as possible. She quickly found her way to a large cobblestone square which was lined with stalls selling food, alcohol, jewellery and brightly dyed cloth. Aiya bought a wicker basket which she filled with warm pasties filled with beef and vegetables, apple turnovers and a bottle of apple press. She also bought a length of blue, green and burgundy cloth. So she could make new shifts and dresses for herself and her sisters.

"Quality wares you've got there little mouse." A gruff voice commented, Aiya turned slowly and calmly keeping her eyes demurely fixed to the floor.

Aiya flicked her eyes up to the scarred face of the large man. "Aye, Sir Knight." She said softly as she bobbed a curtsy. Dagonet was a formidable presence though the kind smile on his face showed no ill intent.

"Those pasties do smell wonderful, though the mistress who sells them cuts me off after half a dozen." He joked which she echoed with a soft polite laugh, her eyes still firmly glued to the floor. He had tried to approach her the previous three times she had shopped at the market but she had evaded him by losing herself in the crowds of people; she did not understand why this man watched her so eagerly.

"They are quality to be sure, Sir Knight." She agreed amiably in her best common accent. "I must return to my family or they're sure to worry. Good day sir." She bid him with another curtsy. He stopped her with a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"I meant no disrespect by calling you little mouse. My apologies if you were offended." He said kindly with a worried smile on his large, scarred, yet still handsome face.

"I took no offence from your kindness, Sir Knight. I really am expected home though." She assured him; it was then that she made her first mistake in two years of living her disreputable life style. She looked up into his eyes and gave him her sweetest smile. It transformed her from a grey little peasant girl to a true beauty and she knew that instant that the Knight had noticed. His frown slipped into a truly pleased grin and he took a step towards her.

"I would hate to ever offend you, may I carry that?" he offered as he held out his hand for the heavy basket on her arm.

She pulled the basket tight against her frame. "No! Thank you Sir but I really must go home." He took another step towards her and she had to tilt her head back to see into his face, she began to fake a slight tremble and bring moisture to her large eyes; the appearance of fear would surely put off the large man.

"Then let me accompany you. Young ladies shouldn't walk home alone after dark." He insisted in tone intended to soothe her false fear.

She shook her head, a slip of her hair springing out of the head dress and curling gently around her face. "The fort has been plenty safe these past two years, we young women experience no more difficulties thanks to his majesty." She reminded him. The King had introduced regular and continuous foot patrols of the fort and the two villages which had sprung up just outside its gates in the two years since he'd come to power, rapes were incredibly rare and their punishment severe. The women of Fort Central (as living within the gates was called), Haven and Vale were rarely touched against their will. Aiya rented one floor of a house for her and her sisters in Vale.

His smile drooped and he took a slight step away from the apparently terrified woman in front of him. "As you wish, young miss. Might I have the honour of your name?" He asked, the poor man seemed genuinely smitten with the drab little form Aiya deliberately presented.

She pulled the first familiar person she could out of her frantic mind. "Rowan Apollus, Sir." She said with a demure curtsy, Rowan was a daughter of one of the remaining centurions; she worked at a seamstresses shop on Fort Centre and resided with her mother in Haven. That would throw him off the scent; she was also very pretty and desperate to be noticed by one of the knights. Once he was presented with a pretty eager young girl he would forget all about the drab mouse at the market.

He grinned, pleased at her apparent eagerness to give her name. "Then perhaps you and I will meet again, Miss Rowan." He said hopefully as he gave a small bow.

Aiyana immediately took advantage of her dismissal and fled from the large Knight, she practically flew through the seething hordes of people, desperate to return home so that she could regain her composure. She dipped into a few doorways and side alleys on her way to make sure that the large man wasn't following her before she made her way out of the large iron gates of the fort and down the long wide path sign posted Vale. She did not see the dark eyes which had traced her every move since her encounter with the centurion.

"Aiya! You're home!" Her youngest sister shrieked as she flung herself at Aiyana. Aiya grunted at the impact; despite being only twelve her sister was taller and sturdier than Aiaya had been at the age of sixteen. Marianne was their mother's clone with curly blonde hair and dark brown eyes; she was sure to grow tall and voluptuous.

"Let me take that." Alexandria offered taking the heavy basket from Aiya's arm so she could properly embrace Marianne. "Mari, stop climbing all over her like some kind of uncivilised Woad." Alexandria scolded softly as she set the basket on the dining table which dominated the small room.

"Thanks Ria." Aiya sighed gratefully as she unwound the grey head cover and shook out her long dark locks before shrugging off the cloak she wore over her dress and draping it over the back of a chair.

"Did you get food? I'm starved!" Mari declared as she skipped after Ria to inspect the basket over her elder sister's shoulder. Ria was a mixture of both their parents; she had the same grey eyes as Aiya but her hair was as blonde as Mari's, she was taller than Aiya by a little and had a fuller chest and bigger hips. Despite Aiya being eighteen and Ria only fifteen many people often mistook the middle sister for being the oldest. Both Aiya and Ria knew that when Mari had her full growth everyone would believe the brown eyed girl to be the eldest of the sisters.

"Ooh! Pasties!" Mari yelped happily as she dug into the basket. Ria slapped her hands away and sent the girl scurrying with a stern glare.

"We use plates and cutlery like the well bred young women that we are!" Ria informed her little sister as Aiya laid the table for supper. Ria had taken their fall from grace a lot harder than the other two sisters; Mari had been too young to understand and Aiyana had been too focused on keeping the sisters fed and together to mourn their loss of fortune.

As the family sat down to their hearty supper Aiyana pondered the strange path of their life. Her mother had died in child birth with their father's longed for son when Marianne was only two, their father, who had loved his wife dearly, followed her to the afterlife not long after he'd buried his still born son and beloved wife. Their Uncle was a very eccentric and wealthy merchant who'd been ennobled for services to the Church; he'd made them a very impressive sum of money through trade and in return he had been granted a vast estate in Rome as well as in the conquered land of the Britons. He also had no desire to give up the life of a bachelor, so hearing of his sister's children and their loss he had them brought from their home on their father's rural estate to his Mansion in Rome.

There they were cherished and educated until Aiyana's thirteenth birthday; interest in all of the girls was strong as their dowries were so large. But Aiyana was lawful heir to the estate of both her Uncle and her Father; she was, therefore, by far the most sought after. A long time trading partner of her uncle had found the prospect too tempting. He had been invited for a prolonged stay as her uncle's guest and late one night when the house was abed he had gained entry to Aiya's chamber with the intention of compromising her; this disrepute would force a marriage. However Aiyana was not the frightened little girl he had expected and the sound of her struggles had woken the house, her uncle gained the right under Roman law to challenge his old friend. He killed the man publicly and brutally but this did not dissuade others from trying and it was when an attempt was made on Alexandria. Then, still only a child. That he realised drastic measures must be taken.

He sent his beloved nieces to Briton with sixty of his most loyal fighters where they would live on his estate, a mere fifty miles from Hadrian's wall. Their life was relatively peaceful until the departure of Rome from Briton's wild and untameable lands; unfortunately her Uncle had also fallen out of favour in Rome for siding with the ousted old regime. His lands were stripped of him and when the income to maintain his Briton lands dried up Aiyana had to release the household staff and pay off the tenants. Soon prospective husbands began to circle the sisters like vultures; eager to get their hands on the land they still held. Aiyana had realised she was no match for so many unwanted suitors so she took her sisters and all the belongings they could fit onto three horses and rode for the blossoming village of Vale where work was plentiful and no questions were asked if you could pay your way.

Soon it became clear to her that the income of one girl working in the fields could not support a family of three, Aiyana stole for the first time after she had lain in bed listening to muffled weeping of her sisters as they tried to pretend the hungry ache in their belly was not so bad. Aiya had made her decision and she so far she had not regretted the life she had chosen for herself and her sisters; the sale of their horses had found them a home and her skill of thievery clothed their bodies, filled their bellies and furnished their home. As did a small loan from the only acquaintance Aiya had made in her time at the Fort. Their rented floor of the house was spacious and clean; it contained two bedrooms (one shared by Ria and Mari), one latrine room and a central living room with a table and five chairs, a fireplace large enough for three well sized cooking pots, a long cushioned bench, several shelves filled with pots of herbs and cooking equipment. Tucked into the corners of the room were several large wooden chests; these contained books and scrolls as well as writing equipment.

At night Aiya would teach Ria what her uncle had taught her and on the days when Ria did not work at a local seamstresses she would teach Mari everything that Aiya taught her. All the girls where known by the shortened version of their names and Ria had chosen the surname Boon; she believed they were special and she always maintained that one day the wealth which belonged to their family would be returned to them. Aiya held no such hope and Mari seemed not to care; she viewed their new life as a grand adventure and enjoyed it to the full.

"Oh, I thought I should mention. I got a second job serving luncheon at Vanora's Inn at the Wall." Ria said casually as she munched on a peeled carrot.

"What?!?!" Aiyana bellowed as Mari watched gleefully.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hi guys chppy two super quick for you. Only one review! I was a little put out so now i give you our favourate knights in the hope that maybe i could get more like five reviews for this chapter?**

**Thank you Clear Blue Rain for being my first and only reviewer. In deference to ur kinds words i dub thee AWESOME! :)**

**So 5 reviews is the goal, Hope u guys enjoy. I would welcome any constructive criticism as well as any general thoughts u guys have about the story e.g. Is my Tristan ok? **

**Chapter Two: A Price Must Be Payed.**

**Aiya's POV**

I grumbled about ungrateful sisters who should know better than to find employment at dens of drinking, gambling and prostitution as I walked up the fort path. True, Vanora's was the largest, classiest and cleanest Inn in a fifty mile radius but it was also constantly populated by her boisterous sons and even more boisterous husband. His band of merry brothers was usually in tow, plopping pretty young things on their laps whenever they felt like it. And Ria was truly beautiful and she looked several years older than her fifteen summers, they wouldn't hesitate to take advantage of such beauty. It had been one week since my argument with Ria over her new employment my sister had not relented.

But I had other troubles. I had incurred a considerable debt in my first few months at the fort in a desperate attempt to feed and clothe my family with only the impractical skills of a noble lady at my disposal. I had incurred even more debt when trying to learn the skills of a thief from the very man who'd loaned me the money; Rengar Northman. A tall, dark accomplished thief who you did not cross if you liked your throat intact; my innocence about the world had blinded me and I'd thought his offer if an apprenticeship and a loan as mere kindness. He had never preciously called in the debt calling it a gift of friendship in return for which he would only ever ask a few small favours here and there. However, Rengar had recently been caught in the act and his majesty had fined him an absolute fortune. All debts had been called in and suddenly I found myself facing a desperate thief who'd no qualms about killing a woman. I needed to steal something big and expensive which could be taken to pieces and sold at the market of the second largest fort in the realm which lay twenty five miles down the road.

I had found just the thing and I'd had spent every night for the past three weeks watching and waiting. It was a large broadsword belonging to the newest knight to join Arthur's round table; Sir Elias. The sword on its own would fetch a fine price but the sheath was the real prize. It was gaudy and he used it only for ceremonial occasions; the whole thing was gilded in gold leaf and down the centre rubies large and small were arranged stylishly and decoratively. I would be able to prize the rubies from the sheath and sell them individually the price they would fetch would more than cover what was needed for the debt, the remainder would go towards my sister's dowries. They had no notion of my troubles and I would endeavour to keep it that way.

One by one the knights left their quarters, presumably for some den of iniquity. I waited half an hour before checking my rather scandalous outfit was fully intact; I had stepped outside of my usual comfortable dowdy dress. Instead I wore black breeches, shirt, boots and head scarf which I had wrapped tightly so that only my eyes showed. I felt uncomfortable in the male garb but tonight's job required stealth and my old skirts would have been more of a hindrance than a help. I checked the dagger and lock picks were safely stored in the top of my left boot before sliding down the hallway with my back to the wall, then silently sprinting up the stairs and along the corridor.

The lock on his door was simple enough and it took only a matter of minutes to open, his suite of rooms was spacious and expensively decorated. I searched the entire room thoroughly, carefully placing every item I moved back in its original place, I wanted my crime to go undetected for as long as possible. One hour later I was thoroughly irritated. There was no sign of the sword, cursing under my breath I kicked the solid frame of the bed. I paused; the sound my foot made against the solid oak board was a hollow one. I bent down to test the seemingly solid bed, the oaks board came away in my hands. And sure enough, right there under the bed was the sword.

An arm like a steel bar wrapped itself around my waist; I straightened only to find the other hand holding a cold blade against my throat. "Move boy and I will cut your thieving neck." A low voice growled into my ear, the next second the arm which held the sword was brutally twisted up and around behind my back, I immediately dropped my prize which clattered loudly to the floor. My pained yelp was distinctly female and I cursed my high pitched voice.

I was immediately spun around to rest against a rock solid chest. I stared in horror at the snapping coal back eyes of Sir Tristan; the most feared of all the Knights due, in no small part, to his famed bloodlust. "What are you?" he growled, he answered his own question by ripping the scarf from my head. Wild curling locks of hair cascaded down my back, my grey eyes were defiant as I stared at the seething man. He looked as shocked as I felt terrified.

"Please don't kill me." The words tumbled out of my mouth before I could even think of stopping them. I gulped as he pressed me closer to his chest, he could blatantly feel the modest swell of my breasts through the flimsy shirt, and his eyes raked my face as he took in every feature.

"You steal from my brother and you have the audacity to ask me not to kill you as is my right as a defender of this Fort?" He asked her slowly.

I took advantage of his disbelief over my gender and brought my knee up sharply, I connected solidly with his groin, whipping myself out of his grasp I sprinted for the door. I took no more than two steps before a hand shot out and wrapped itself around my thin wrist, he then flung me backwards onto the bed and straddled my body, pinning my wrists above my head as I surged and writhed beneath him, in a desperate attempt to free myself.

"Enough!" He growled. I stilled instantly, gasping as I drew much needed air into my tired lungs, a light sheen of sweat graced my pale skin. He stared as my ice cold eyes practically shone in the moonlight.

"You are a thief." He grumbled disbelievingly as he took in my tiny frame trapped beneath his. It was not a question so I did not answer, I gasped in relief when his grip on my wrists loosened a little. "I know your face."

His statement shocked me to the core and I froze immediately scanning his face frantically, the look of recognition faded into one of sadistic pleasure, his lips curled into a rueful smirk. "How?" I asked, my voice trembled and I cursed my weakness.

"The little grey mouse who takes from roman guards. My, you have led poor Dag on a very merry little chase. Though I see you are not a mouse at all." His voice was as dark and smooth as his eyes.

"No!"I gasped. There had been no one! No one had followed me! I'd been so careful!

"Oh yes little flower." Tristan seemed very pleased with his discovery.

"Please." I moaned. I could not go to prison; my sisters would have no protection and only Ria's miniscule earnings to support themselves.

He leant closer, his hot breath ruffling the wild strand of hair framing my face. "Please what? Why do you want the sword, little flower? Are you starving? Have you babes to feed?" He asked curiously. His snapping eyes still showed anger over my act.

I yelped when he squeezed my wrists hard enough to bruise. "I-I have a debt to pay off!" I yelped when he increased the pressure to the point where I thought my fragile bones might break.

"Ahhh." He sighed softly as if all had become clear; he once again eased his harsh grip.

"Let me go. I won't do it again, I swear." I promised him.

The punishing grip returned. "What does the promise of a thief mean to a knight?!" he snarled.

My temper flared. "And where lies the authority of a Sarmatian slave?!" I demanded, my noble righteousness rising.

His harsh slap rang echoed across the chamber, my head snapped to the side and I did not return my gaze to his face, instead I stared at the wall as tears leaked from my eyes. His restraining hands returned to my wrists. "Spoken like a noble strumpet! You lose your learned accent when angered, my lady!" He growl as he pressed his lips to my ear.

"I-I don't know what you mean." I stammered as I sniffled in an attempt to clear my tear clouded eyes.

He held both my wrists in one hand as the other gripped my chin and returned my gaze to his. "Your breeding is clear little flower. You speak Roman when alone with your little chits, your hair is clean, your nails have no dirt under them and your teeth are white as snow. I believe the thief is of good stock." He spat out his accusations in rapid succession and I flinched as they hit home. I was done for.

One calloused finger stroked my stinging cheek. "So smooth, tell me sweetling. Did you enjoy the little chase you led my brother on?" he asked me curiously.

"What?" I had expected more questions about who I was but he either already knew or didn't care.

"My besotted fellow Knight, surely you remember?" He prompted.

"What do I care about some lustful fool looking for a warm body to fill his bed?! I would not bed one of your bastard brothers if commanded by the Pope himself!" I snarled as I resumed my struggles. I lunged forward and bit the hand he used to cup my face, I put as much force behind the bite as I could only releasing him when I tasted blood. I would not submit to this man without a fight. However much it hurt.

He slapped the same abused cheek and I yelped as the pain which radiated through my jaw. "Does that please you honourable Sir Knight?! Do you enjoy beating women?!" I demanded as more tears poured from my eyes.

"Tristan!" A forceful voice bellowed from the open doorway. I yelped as Tristan tugged me off the bed, twisting my aching arm behind my back as he stood us face to face with King Arthur and his knights of the round table. My jaw would have dropped if it hadn't ached so much. There they all stood swords unsheathed and looks of confusion across their handsome faces.

"We heard a commotion, what goes on here?" The King demanded as he stepped into the room.

"My sword." Sir Elias gasped as he came forward to lift it from the ground.

"I caught the little thief helping herself." Tristan explained calmly as I tried to ignore Dagonet's expression; he recognised me and he seemed genuinely hurt that I had turned out to be a thief as well as a liar.

"Wench!" Sir Elias growled striding towards me. I struggled in Tristan's grip desperate to escape from the beating that was surely to come,I screamed when my arm was twisted to an impossible angle. It choked off into a sob when I felt the muscles in my pulled to snapping point.

Dagonet growled. In two swift strides he was in front of Tristan, the dark knight willingly surrendered me into his large friend's grip; I sagged against the massive man as my arm dangled uselessly at my side. "Hush girl. No more harm will come to you, I swear it." He soothed as he sheathed his sword wrapped his arms protectively around my trembling frame.

"You will defend this thieving whore against your brother?" Elias growled as he came towards us.

"Hold your tongue, whelp! You have not yet earned the right to call me brother!" Dagonet boomed.

"Enough!" Arthur commanded. "Tristan, I want an explanation." Tristan then proceeded to tell his King that he had caught me stealing the sword and that I had done so to repay a debt, he did not mention his discovery of my breeding. I was shocked by this but I wisely chose not to question it. My sobs had subsided into whimpers though every time I moved my injured arm a scream threatened to tear its way out of my raw throat. I was not accustomed to pain and found that I did not care for it.

Arthur came towards Dagonet and I. "You stole the sword to pay a debt to whom?" he asked me softly. His eyes were merely curious not angry.

I named my debtor, who was I to deny a king? "Do you have a family?" The King asked me.

"Yes, your majesty. Two sisters, both younger than I."I ended with a whimper as I regained enough strength in my legs to stop resting my weight against the large knight; the movement had jostled my arms.

"God damn it Tristan!" Dagonet growled before asking one of his brothers to pass him a length of cloth. "I'm going to make a sling for your arm, it will hurt when I manoeuvre it in but after that the pain will ease." Dagonet told me firmly yet soothingly as he sat me down in a large dining chair.

I nodded my consent and bit my lip hard enough to bleed as he did as promised. "Good girl." He soothed as he stroked my hair with one massive hand.

"Don't coddle the thieving bitch." Elias spat as he placed his sword in a trunk and locked it.

"Stupido maiale." I muttered under my breath. Evidently I underestimated the Knight's skill with languages and he surged to his feet striding towards me filled with righteous anger.

He was stopped by Dagonet who stepped directly in front of my seated form. "Peace. I will have no one else strike this girl." He rumbled as Bors swaggered to his large friend's side.

"I think the girls had enough, don't you?" He suggested to Elias who reassessed his chances at getting to me unharmed with both the large men in his way.

"I will have no more violence here tonight." Arthur's words put an end to the men's posturing and Dagonet returned to crouch by my side as Elias poured himself a drink as if he'd never intended to lay a finger on me.

"I know this man she owes."Lancelot commented as he leant against the door frame with a handsome unconcerned smirk on his face. "What's a pretty young thing like you doing getting involved with a vagrant like that?" Lancelot asked resting his soulful eyes on my face, I dropped my eyes to my uninjured hand resting on my lap.

"When my sisters and I first came here we had no money, I needed a way to pay for food and clothing so I borrowed until I could earn what I needed." I told them softly, Dagonet took my hand in his large one, it was dwarfed but his warmth provided me with strength.

"Earn? You mean steal." Elias corrected me with a poisonous glare, I was fed up of the pretty young knight so I glared right back drawing amused chuckles from the gathered men and outraged squawks from Elias.

"I only took from those who could afford it and I never took more than was necessary. I have employment in the fields and with a seamstress as does my sister." I knew there was no sense in defending my lifestyle but I couldn't help myself.

"Your parents?"Dagonet asked softly.

"Dead these past ten years, we had an uncle but he is gone too." I said truthfully, my uncle was gone from us in a manner of speaking.

Arthur watched me silently for a time before coming to crouch in front of me. "Look at me girl. I do not yet know what to do with you, Dagonet will take you to the healers wing where you will remain under his watch until I have decided an appropriate punishment. I understand that your circumstance were difficult but there is no excuse." He informed me sternly.

I stared wide eyed at the man in front of me. "I understand, your majesty." I said gravely.

"Tristan, Elias no more harm will come to this woman. Is that understood?" he asked his men. They both nodded though Tristan still watched me with a knowing smirk, I wondered how he would use his knowledge against me.

"She will be under my protection Arthur." Dagonet swore as he stood and placed a hand on my uninjured shoulder.

I stood shakily. "My sisters." I had told them I would be home hours ago, I was never late, Ria would be worried.

"A message will be sent to inform them that you are detained here." The King informed me before bidding his Knights goodnight and leaving.

"Better keep an eye on the little flower Dagonet, she's slippery." Tristan warned his friend with a good natured chuckle. One day I will do that man an injury, I swore as Dagonet escorted me out of the room being carful not to jostle my injured arm.

**So you likey? No likey? Review plz:)**

**P.S. That little burst of Italian is supposed to mean stupid pig, whether it does or not i have no idea.**


	3. Chapter 3

**16 reviews! That's fantastic! Please, lets keep it up. I know the chapter's a little on the short side but i didn't want to mix the interaction stuff with anything else. **

**X-RayDog: Thank you! Hehe, yes they will definitely get a shock when they realize how far from a delicate little flower she is. **

**TempusSimia: Here you go, an asap update (by my standards). **

**Valerie18: lol, your review had me giggling. Hurray for metaphors. More blossoming to come :)**

**Hellion Hayley: Glad you like them :)**

**Georgiamorrison: lol, I'll try to keep the updates regular. **

**Jacobsbabygrl: Will do, will do. **

**Randomness attack: Lol, nice name. I like your enthusiasm. **

**Raging Raven: Thankee :)**

**Cjas: Is this soon? I don't know but here it is anyway. **

**SquishySassySavvy: Nice name :) Yay, he's in character! Impatience is a virtue, that's what I always say. **

**WintherRose: I loved reading your review; it gave me a lot of stuff to think about when writing. I'm desperately trying to keep her from becoming effusive; she develops a lot more in the next few chapters. Please keep being picky, I love picky. :)**

**Clear Blue Rain: Nail, hammer, head. I think that's the general gist of it, lol. Glad you like :) And extra yayness! You are my first return reviewer! **

**Maskedpainter: Hehe, you demanded and I provided. **

**Dancelikeyoujustdontcare: yay, hope you keep reading. **

**Topaz1302: Lol, thanks. Trust me when I say her sisters will not be best pleased. **

**Chapter Three: The Debt You Owe.**

I watched Dagonet from beneath my lashes as he put a pot over the fire in which he boiled water for a tea which he claimed would ease the dull throbbing pain in my skull. I was surprised at how swiftly and silently he moved for such a large man; his fingers where nimble as they chopped herbs, roots and bark which he then added to the pot. He looked up from stirring his concoction to favour me with a curious look, I met his gaze and was surprised to find no hatred or anger in his eyes as I had seen in the other knights.

"How is your arm?" he asked softly, frowning as he looked at the injured limb.

"Better now, I thank you." I told him genuinely. I regretted the insults I had flung at Sir Tristan about this man; he was a kind soul in a killer's body.

"It was not necessary for him to do such damage." Dagonet said softly as he came to sit in the chair next the cot on which reclined, propping my upper body up against the headboard.

"He believed me to be a threat." I said with a shrug of my unharmed shoulder.

Dagonet snorted disbelievingly. "He is a skilled warrior of many years; he could have easily subdued you without causing you harm." He growled softly. His voice was low, deep and rumbling. I found it as soothing as a lullaby.

I smiled. "You are nicer than you look Sir Dagonet." I said and then immediately blushed. "I-I didn't mean it like- I-It wasn't meant to sound like an insult." I babbled as the big man chuckled.

He placed a large soothing hand on my knee. "I know what you meant. I took it for the compliment that it was." He said and I sighed in relief. I had only ever been struck by a man once before; that was when I was avoiding rape at the hands of my uncle's old friend. It had been so many years ago that I had forgotten how much the experience troubled me; my encounter with Tristan had brought painful memories to the surface of my mind. I was eager to avoid a repeat of the incident.

Dagonet saw the troubled look in my eyes. "You need not fear me, girl." He said softly as he ducked his head so that we were eye to eye. "I would like the pleasure of your real name, if you don't mind?" he asked softly as one of his large hands dwarfed the side of my face, his calloused thumb flitting over by bruised cheek.

"Aiyana Boon." I whispered softly, I winced when his thumb moved over the developing bruise.

"Aiyana." He breathed, "A beautiful name." He said as he withdrew his hands and went to check on the tea bubbling over the fire.

"Why are you so nice to me? I stole from your friend and I bit Sir Tristan." I blurted, I jumped when he let out a bark of laughter.

"You bit Tristan?!" He guffawed as ladled liquid from the pot into a cup.

I blushed. "Until he bled." I confessed accepting the offered cup from the chuckling Knight.

"That, I would pay to see. Tristan wounded by a slip of a girl." He grinned fondly at me.

"I am no girl." I grumbled irritably. "I am eighteen." I informed him as I sipped gingerly at the tea.

"Eighteen? Why you are practically decrepit." Dagonet teased as I sipped more of the pleasant liquid, I paused only to stick my tongue out at him. I drew more guffaws from the large man. I found I enjoyed making him laugh.

"I told you they were having fun!" A young voice declared from the entrance to the large room. I turned to see a boy of no more than eleven stood on the entrance scowling fiercely at me.

"Lucan! What are young doing out of bed?" Dagonet demanded as he stood. A blonde haired, blue eyed, unshaven man stepped in behind the boy.

"Sorry Dag, he came to me when he couldn't find you. I told him you were busy but he got away from me." The tall blonde explained as he placed a restraining hand on Lucan's shoulder.

"Gawain lied! He said you were here on important business for the King but you're not! You're having fun with her!" He said accusingly as he shot more venomous looks at me.

"Lucan." Dagonet growled warningly. The boy stared at his feet as a blush rose to his pale cheeks, his curly blonde hair flopped over his eyes as he shuffled nervously.

"I heard about our little intruder. From Tristan's wound I thought it to be a large brute of a man, surely this little thing isn't the cause of all Elias' fury?" Gawain asked his friend as he ran his eyes over my form.

"Tristan says you're a thief and you should be in the dungeons!" Lucan blurted as he looked at me from beneath his curtain of hair.

"Lucan, that's enough!" Dagonet reprimanded sharply.

"But Da!" The boy moaned. I startled at him addressing Dagonet as his father; I had heard no mention of the Knight being married. The boy must be a bastard; foisted on him by a deceased mother perhaps?

"To bed, now." Dagonet ordered, the boy shot me one last glare as Gawain gripped his shoulders and turned him out of the room.

Dagonet shook his head ruefully as he retook his seat by my bed. "I apologize for the boy; I have tried, and failed, to teach him manners." He explained as he grinned; quite the proud father.

"He is your son?" I asked curiously.

"I adopted him two years ago." He told me a reminiscent look in his eyes. I nodded in understanding; an odd situation but definitely preferable to the alternative.

"He is a handsome boy." I told Dagonet who puffed up proud as a peacock. I stifled a yawn behind my hand as Dagonet began to regale me with tales of Lucan's never ending mischief. I leant back against the head board and allowed the deep rumbling voice to wash over me, my eyes drooped and the empty cup in by hand slipped from my fingers onto the sheets.

I woke quickly and violently with a barely muffled scream on my lips, I blinked up at the wooden beams as my racing heart calmed. I could still hear screaming.

"Nightmares?" a cool voice asked. I whipped my head around as I scrambled to sit up. Tristan reclined casually in the chair that had been occupied by Dagonet when I went to sleep.

"What do you want?" I demanded as I glared at the Knight.

He watched me for several moments. "I don't know. That's the problem." He admitted as he stood from the chair, stretching as he did so. "The king has sent for your sisters, they'll arrive shortly." He informed me.

"Get away from the girl, Tristan." Dagonet growled from the open doorway. I was shocked at the hostility on the large knight's eyes; Tristan was his brother in arms, they had served together for over a decade but at this very moment he looked ready hurt the other man. Dagonet's gaze switched to me and he ran his eyes over my body looking for any new injuries Tristan may have inflicted in the brief time we were left alone.

Tristan leered at me. "Besotted, isn't he?" Tristan smirked at his friend as he sauntered out of the room.

Dagonet grumbled at his friend's retreating figure. "Are you alright? He didn't hurt you?" Dagonet asked softly as he sat beside me.

I grinned at the giant of a man. "He wouldn't dare, not with you prowling around like a guard dog."I joked as he blushed profusely. "Why are you so mistrustful of your own friend?" I asked curiously.

"It's precisely because he's my friend that I don't trust him. I know what he's like." Dagonet growled, a wave of heat washed over my body at his fierceness.

"You swore to protect me." It wasn't a question so he didn't answer, he just watched me waiting for me to finish the thought I'd just had. "Why would you do that? And before, at the market, for three weeks you've approached me every time I went there."

Dagonet looked bashful as I laid out my observations one by one. "I think you're perfect." He whispered as he kept his gaze firmly glued to the floor.

"Oh." I gasped. I hadn't been expecting that. I firm knock rapped on the large double doors, Gawain entered tentatively peeking his head around the door before fully entering the room.

"The king will see you now." He informed me gravely.

Dagonet helped up off the cot knowing I still couldn't put any pressure on my injured arm. "Do you know?" he asked the younger knight.

Gawain shook his head. "He hasn't told anyone what he intends to do, though he's been ordering servants about for the past few hours." Gawain told his friend regretfully. He did not seem to hold any bitter feelings towards me; I was beginning to get the impression that Elias was not terribly popular with his fellow knights. I took a deep breath to steady my nerves and rose from the cot, Dagonet's kind smile did nothing to reassure me. I was about to face the King's own justice.

**There you go. Short and sweet. Please don't forget to review. :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hi guys i know this is very late and i'm sorry. I won't bore you withthe details of life.**

**A very belated Happy bday to Lilli- thanks for the support, this chapter is for you.**

**Also, 37 reviews! Wow! Thanks everybody and please keep it going. Who says King Arthur is a forgotten catgory? **

**I hope my Arthur seems a little older and wiser then he was in the film, that was my intention anyway. And just incase you get confused; Ria is the middle sister and Mari is the youngest. **

**Chapter Four: Team of One**

King Arthur slouched in a large chair pushed back from his famed round table, his expression was serious and his large calloused hands where steepled in front of him as he rested his elbows on the arms of the magnificent oak chair. Aiya shifted her weight between her feet as she kept her head respectfully bowed, peering at the formidable man from beneath the curtain of hair which had fallen over her face. Dagonet stood several paces behind her; he was a large reassuring presence, she felt as if she'd found an ally in this cold hostile land.

"I find myself conflicted Aiyana." The King sighed. "Traditional justice tells me that I should cut off your thieving hand for stealing from a knight of the realm. Alas..... My Queen and I are attempting to build a new Britannia. I wish to be just but, I also wish to be merciful. I don't believe that you are a bad person Aiyana, you fell upon hard times and dealt with it in the best way you could. I too desire to provide the best for my family. Do you agree?"

Aiya dipped a curtsy. "I do, your majesty." She said demurely. She was still unsure of his purpose; she hadn't thought that dealing with one thief would cause so much conflict within such a great man.

"You cannot go without punishment. The lifestyle you led before now is over. You and your sisters will be wards of this court, you will be employed as servants and seamstresses within this keep and you will be under close supervision. Your debt has been paid in full but a portion of your income will go to me for the loss I have incurred in paying your debt. Once you have paid me you will remain in service to this court for two years, you sisters, however, are free to go." Aiyana felt both relief and fury. She would no longer be able to afford the books and well made clothes her sisters had grown accustomed to, she was essentially to be demoted to a serf. An indentured servant. She would belong to Arthur, King of the Britain's.

Arthur beckoned Dagonet forward. "Your family have been assigned a room near the healers wing, Dagonet will show to your new room, your sisters are waiting for you there. If I hear about one more incident of thievery, rest assured you will receive the harshest punishment possible. You will report to Mistress Farrow in the servant's quarters tomorrow at dawn." His expression brooked no quarrel so Aiya curtseyed and backed away from the King.

She breathed a deep sigh of relief as soon as the doors closed behind her and Dagonet, The large man gave her a sympathetic smile. "He was lenient." She observed.

Dagonet nodded thoughtfully. "He was a good man before all this madness and he has made a good king. I also belief the Queen had a word with him on your behalf." He smiled as Aiyana's shocked look. "She's adamant about doing away with the more brutal of the Roman traditions."

"So I assume since we've been placed near the healer's wing that you will be the one to monitor me?" Aiyana asked with a roguish smirk, she almost grinned in triumph when the large man blushed. It was her new favourite game; playing with the large knight.

"I.....volunteered for the position." He admitted as he led Aiyana down a series of corridors.

"Is that so?" She said with a small smile. "Why Sir Knight, all this attention is sure to create gossip." She trilled.

"Let them talk, I'll set them right." He growled.

Aiya jumped at his booming declaration. "I was only teasing, I apologise for angering you." She assured the large man.

Dagonet looked bashful. "I'm sorry, I just dislike the idea of anyone talking about you like that. Gawain tells me I need to reign in my temper." He admitted.

Aiya paused momentarily, the large Knight's continual declarations of affection both shocked and confused her. "You know who else volunteered to act as watchman?" Dagonet asked her softly.

"Who?" Aiyana hoped it wasn't Elias; the young knight seemed like the type of man who could hold a grudge.

"Tristan. He seems intent on studying you like he does his birds." Dagonet seemed troubled by his own words.

"Oh." Aiya gasped, her encounters with the dark eyed knight had sent frissons of fear across her body but, more confusingly, she also felt excitement at the prospect of running into the him again.

Dagonet mistook her expression for one of upset, the large man paused to place his hands lightly on her arms. "I won't let him hurt you again." He vowed.

She took a steadying breath as the handsome man's vow stole the wind from her lungs, she plastered a wry grin onto her face. "Why, sir Knight, there's no need to worry about me or have you forgotten Sir Tristan's wounded hand?" She prompted teasingly.

"Ah yes! Poor Tristan, perhaps it's him who needs to be protected." Dagonet chuckled.

"Perhaps." Aiya said modestly, drawing more chuckles from the large man. "It seems strange; here we stand, making jokes, when a few hours ago I was terrified about facing justice."

"This is a strange place. You'll get used to it." Dagonet told her.

"I suppose I'll have to." Aiya mused as they passed the Healer's room, they turned down another smaller corridor where Dagonet stopped outside a modest oak door. She heard voices from inside which stopped as soon as Dagonet opened the door. Before her eyes could fully adjust to the dim light inside the room Aiyana was hit with a large blonde object.

"Aiya!" The skinny person glued to her front shrieked as she pressed her face against Aiyana's body. Aiya smiled as she smoothed Mari's blonde curls.

"Hush now! There's no need to make such a fuss Marianne!" Ria scolded as she stood from the bench which she had been perched on. Ria dipped a respectful curtsy as soon as she saw Dagonet, he bowed his head in acknowledgement. Aiya surveyed the room; there were two chests in the corner of the room and on each of the three beds lay a large sack which she assumed held the personal belongings of each of the sisters.

"Where have you been?!" Mari demanded, she had pulled away from Aiya and was stood with her hands propped on her hips and a fierce scowl on her tear stained face. "Big men with a horse and cart came and got us and no one would tell us where you were!"

"You know perfectly well where she was Marianne. You got caught didn't you?" Ria demanded as she began to unpack the bags on the beds, she slammed open the cupboard doors and stuffed clothing onto the shelves.

"I'll leave you ladies to get settled in." Dagonet shifted uncomfortably on the spot as he eyes the three scowling girls, he seemed to be particularly fearful of the one with tear tracks down her face. Evidently Dagonet did not know how to deal with crying women, even if they were really small ones.

"Thank you Dagonet." Aiya said with a forced smile, she shot a glare at Ria when her sister scoffed at the blushing Knight. Ria had no patience for romance.

"What on earth were you thinking?!?!" Ria bellowed as soon as the Knight closed the door behind him.

Aiya winced. "Would you please calm down? I have a headache and you're not helping." She moaned.

"Calm down?" Ria snarled as she stalked across the room to glare down at Aiya. "We had a perfectly acceptable life and you had to go and ruin it because you wanted more-"

Aiya's bitter laughter stopped Ria's rant. "You think I stole for fun? Because I wanted to get rich? You know for an intelligent person you can be incredibly stupid sometimes Alexandria. I stole because our perfectly acceptable life was funded through loans, loans which now have to be repaid. And yes! I got caught." Aiya spat as she collapsed onto one of the beds.

Ria was silent for several moments before she moved forward and placed a lit candle in the holder that rested on the bedside table. "The trunks are full of books, cloth and supplies. We have enough candles to last us for months and the cloth will make at least half a dozen dresses. We only really had to leave the furniture behind." Ria told her; Aiya knew she wouldn't get an apology but this was Ria's way of telling her that she didn't fully blame her for the abrupt change in circumstances.

"Molly from the mill said that working at the wall is loads of fun!" Mari piped as she bounced onto the bed next to Aiya. "What happened to your face?"

"What?" Ria demanded as she peered at Aiya in the hazy candle light, she gasped when she saw the livid bruise left by Tristan's hand.

"I was stealing Sir Elias' prize sword, I got caught by one of the Knights. He was a little upset," Aiya told them as she sat up to tug her boots off her feet. "It's alright Mari, it doesn't even hurt anymore." She lied as she saw her little sister's lower lip began to tremble. Marianne made up for Alexandria's extreme lack of emotion by crying about everything.

Ria's delicate yet strong hands appeared around her right boot, which always got stuck more than the other one, she tugged firmly until the battered leather slid off smoothly, she placed the pair of the boots at the end of the bed so Aiya wouldn't trip over them in the night. Having been assured that Aiya wasn't in any pain Mari flounced around the room, unhelpfully rifling through all the unpacked possessions until Ria lost her patience and slapped Mari's hands away from the folded stacks of clothing. After that Mari settled herself onto her bed and sulked quietly. Aiya lay down on her reasonably non-lumpy bed and let her heavy eyes drift shut.

"This is a lovely new home! Do you think we'll get to see the Queen? I hear she's beauuuutiful-" Aiya smiled to herself as she let Mari's babbling lull her to sleep.

"Aiya, wake up. We have to report soon." Someone hissed into her ear as they lightly shook her by the shoulders. She blinked sleep from her heavy eyes, hissing when the harsh morning sun increased her throbbing headache to a dull roar, a loud clatter from the opposite side of the room made her sit up.

"Oops." Mari winced as she stood in at the centre of a pile of broken crockery, she shuffled to the left as if to disown the mess.

"From now on Marianne, do not help me." Ria hissed through clenched teeth.

"God, I'm tired." Aiya moaned, rubbing her slightly swollen eyes.

"Serves you right." Ria sniffed as she swept up the broken bowls, Mari stuck out her tongue in silent solidarity with Aiya. The eldest sister smiled her thanks as she walked over to the large pot bubbling over the hearth, she prodded the contents with a large wooden ladle: porridge, and lots of it. Her stomach rumbled in approval.

"Move." Ria ordered; Aiya obeyed. She had quickly learnt that it was not wise to mess with the woman who cooks your food, the last time she had defied Ria in the kitchen it had been up to her to feed herself and Mari for a whole week. It was only then that they had learnt how disastrous she was at cooking; three thoroughly unusable cooking pots, four charcoaled chickens and one serious fire later, Ria had relented.

"What do you think we'll be doing? I want to polish swords!" Mari declared as she brandished a long thin piece of firewood. "Tom says that after you polish them they let you swing em around a bit. I'm going to be the first ever lady knight!" Mari told them as she successfully killed the menacing pillow she had been beating with her stick.

"You'll do no such thing; we're going to maids and seamstresses as is proper for a young lady." Ria informed her as she placed three bowls of porridge on the small battered table.

"I will too be a knight!" Mari countered leaping off the bed and waggling her stick at Ria.

"You will not; you cry every time you fall over and graze your knee plus you're afraid of the dark. You'd be the most useless knight ever, also, women don't become knights. It's a rule for a reason." Ria informed the fuming girl before sweeping her skirts out and sitting daintily at the table.

Mari and Ria both looked to Aiya to settle the argument. "It's too early for talking." She grumbled ladling hot porridge in her mouth at a rapid rate.

"Stop eating like a commoner." Ria chastised.

"Technically we are commoners." Aiya informed her sister. "And both of you remember that, we stick to our story. Dead merchant class parents, home schooled and not a word of Roman from either of you."

"You're the one who makes all the mistakes Aiyana, not us." Ria reminded her softly before turning her eyes to her food, Aiya bit her lip and swallowed the urge to cry as she thought of the years of service she had ahead of her. She wondered what her father would have thought of the life she had condemned her sisters to.

**Hope you guys liked it. More Dagonet in the next chapter and Tristan tries to learn more about the mysterious young lady who invaded his life. :)**


	5. Chapter 5

**I know it's been a long tiem coming but i only get a little time each week to write with two jobs and a social life but i know it must be irritating.**

**I was soooo pleased to see how many ppl favourited this story and added it to their alerts, also i was so surprised by the amount of reviews, i had no idea this many people still bothered reading King Arthur fanfiction. This chapter gives a little more insight into Aiaya's mind, i hope you like where it's going and i would be very interested to know what people want or expect to happen, i have a rough idea but i would love to knwo what you guys think.**

**Appologies for all mistakes, my work is un-betad and i am highly dyslexic so i just don't see the mistakes.**

**Chapter Five: A precious daughter.**

"This side of the room is for all the dried herbs, those contained in the glass jars on the bottom four shelves have been cured and are ready for use, those on the very top shelf are dated so you know when they will be ready for use. Do not touch anything if I have not explicitly told you that you may do so. That cupboard is filled with bandages and bindings and splints for breaks and cuts. If you see any of these running low refill them, we never know when the King and his men may be called out and we never know how many might come back injured. And more often than not his Majesty brings back any unfortunate looking peasants he finds along the way so it is advisable to make sure that we are never short on soap or on lice killing lotion." The dour old woman turned to fix Aiya with a stern questioning gaze.

"I understand Mistress Farrow. Where do I get the replacement bandages from?" She asked softly as she gazed around the massive Healer's store room. She could clearly see the influence of the King's Roman upbringing in the entire place.

Her father had warned her about the barbaric nations of the north, during his travels he had encountered peoples with no knowledge of health, hygiene or healing. Whereas the empire placed strict emphasis on the health and cleanliness of its troops; head lice and fleas where to be dealt with immediately so as to stop them from spreading, all wounds large or small where to be cleansed and wrapped so as to prevent infection. Arthur had evidently decided to impose Roman routine on his English peoples. The King continued to impress.

"Dear girl you do not 'get them' from anywhere, you will weave them yourself, lazy child." Mistress Farrow grumbled as she hefted her short heavy body across the room to the heavy oak door lined with bolts and locks.

"To keep out thieves, though, apparently his Majesty no longer sees this as a concern." She drawled with a pointed look at Aiya.

_I can't hit her; they'd throw me in the dungeons for sure. _Aiya thought, fiercely clenching her teeth as she followed the fat old woman out of the supply room.

"I understand that hard work is a foreign concept to someone who is so used to merely taking whatever they want but..."

_Might be worth it though_. "As you say Mistress," Aiya said when she realised the older woman was looking at her expectantly. Farrow sniffed her acceptance of Aiya's suitably contrite reply.

"I only pray that those poor children who were under your influence for so long can be saved from your wicked ways; hard work can only do so much to cure evil. But they are still young and their souls still clean." Mistress Farrow lamented as she lead Aiyana through the ward which consisted of a long hall lined with clean well made beds. It was one of the larger rooms and it connected directly to the smaller ward which Dagonet had brought her to after her ordeal with Tristan. The walls were lined with hearths, most of them lit, to ward off the bone chilling cold which seemed to constantly cling to England.

"I hope to see you at church tomorrow morning, perhaps you may pray your way into purgatory." Mistress Farrow observed.

Aiya gave serious thought to picking up the heavy cooking pot sat on a bench just out of reach and beating the woman about the head with it. Though, she supposed that Dagonet would be very disappointed with her if she were to do so.

"My sisters and I have no religion, Mistress Farrow." Aiya replied with a sweet smile.

The lines caking the old woman's large face deepened into a scowl. "Poor godless children, I will pray for their souls as I can clearly see that yours is beyond help." She said as if she expected Aiya to throw herself to her knees and weep with gratitude, Aiya merely raised one eyebrow and gave a sardonic little curtsy.

"The various bastards and motherless miscreants of the keep and surrounding villages total twenty seven and they will all be arriving today for their monthly check up, as ordered by the king in his infinite wisdom. I must concern myself with higher matters so you will be in charge of their care. We are to check for breaks, cuts and lice. You must treat them, feed them _one _good meal and then send them on their way. I shall warn you against soft-heartedness girl, these are the worst kind of orphans and as soon as they see you they will look as miserable as possible, you are to do no more than check and feed them. Then you will send away with instructions not to return until the first Saturday of next month, is that clear?" The old woman demanded.

Aiya bobbed a curtsy. "Yes, Mistress." She said humbly as she thought of the hundred different ways she could the make the old woman disappear. The elder woman once again sniffed her acceptance and swept her huge frame out of the hall.

"Stale old wench." Aiya grumbled as she turned and kicked a wooden bed post.

"Now what did I do to deserve such a compliment?" A deep voice asked jovially.

Aiya whipped her head around to find the voice, she couldn't prevent the genuine look of joy that spread across her face when she saw who was stood in the doorway, arms crossed and resting on his massive chest. "Good morning, Sir Dagonet." She said with a sweet smile and a small curtsy.

"Good morn-Good god!" Dagonet hissed and shot across the room, Aiya was so shocked by the speed of the large man that before she could blink he was stood right in front of her, one large hand cupping the side of her face.

"Dagonet!" Aiya yelped as she pulled away from the man's grasp, he merely slid one tree trunk of an arm around her waist as his other hand continued its assessment of her cheek. He'd had precisely the same reaction as her sister's to the magnificent bruise that painted her cheek, courtesy of Sir Tristan's temper.

"He really did a number on you," Dagonet growled, his expression was fierce and it seemed to promise retribution.

Aiya wriggled out of his grasp. "Don't be ridiculous, it was just a little slap, I'm fine." She protested, he reached out an arm to pull her close again, flashes of hot stale wine scented breath and violent curses assaulted her senses.

"Aiya." He pleaded.

"You overstep yourself Sir Knight! I am no trollop to be manhandled til your hearts' content." She said as she put one of the sturdy wooden tables between herself and the large Knight, she breathed deeply as she purged the memories from her mind's eye.

He stopped and pulled his hand back. "Of course, forgive me." He said softly, he looked so wounded that Aiya began to regret her harsh rebuke, but she did not want to gain reputation as a bed warmer as well as a thief, nor did she enjoy the feeling of being held too tight in a man's grasp.

"Why are you here Sir Dagonet? Shouldn't you be hitting things with sticks or whatever it is that knights do?" She joked lightly, hoping to draw the tension from the room.

"I always help with the orphans." He informed her.

"Oh, Mistress Farrow has also assigned me to the task." She said, she was a little baffled by the delighted smile that spread across the man's face. His attachment to her did not bode well for the future, she had no intention of ever getting herself entangled in any sort of romance.

"Then we should prepare," he said jovially as he rounded the table, taking advantage of her momentary loss of concentration he took hold of her elbow and gently tugged her towards the store room.

"Please Sir Dagonet!" She protested as she removed her arm from his grasp, "I do not like to be touched."

His frown returned. "As you wish," he said softly.

Aiya frowned as she watched the man silently walk away, she had no wish to hurt the kind Knight's feelings but attachment's were dangerous and unaffordable and she felt so comfortable around the large man that if she were not careful she knew that she would slip into old habits. She would act like the young roman lady that she was and questions would arise about her past, her sisters, and inevitably her fortune. If he knew what he could gain by tying himself to her, by asserting ownership over her as her husband (or god forbid as her master) then the mask of unerring kindness would fall and he would ruthlessly seek the fortune that any man willing to marry her or her sister's would gain. She was an Aelius and she would ignore the tugging she felt in her heart every time she saw Dagonet, thoughts of affection and desire where for the weak and she was not weak.

'_You are a daughter of Lucius Valerius Aelius, you were blessed with a name of your own, such things are usually reserved for the sons of of great households, but I have been blessed with the most beautiful and the most intelligent of daughters; you shall walk amongst men, you shall rule amongst men. And you shall always have my whole heart...'_

"Aiyana," Dagonet called softly from the open doorway of the storeroom.

"Hmm?" She smiled, the sound of her father's voice fell away, she concentrated on where she was and who she was supposed to be.

"Your thoughts are troubling?" Dagonet asked as he emerged with two large wicker baskets filled with jars of ointment and roll of bandages.

"Not at all Sir Knight," she brightened her smile. "Just silly things, things long lost. Let me help you with those."

He lifted the baskets above her reach. "Perhaps you could light the fires and set the pots of water above them, I will also need towels and thin combs."

She frowned. "A little heavy lifting will not break me, Sir." She informed, hands propped on her hips.

"But it would shame me, please do as I say Aiyana." Dagonet hefted the baskets to one of the large tables and began to unload its contents; depositing the rolls of bandages into a bowl and lining up the jars in long neat rows.

"I will obey in all things Sir Dagonet." Aiyana dipped a curtsy.

"I highly doubt that, my little Aiya." He whispered to himself as he watched her slender form sweep into the store room, he hated himself for the longing sigh the slipped through his lips.

**Hope you enjoyed, please leave feedback. The next chapter will probably be up after i come back from my holiday. And as promised it will contain Tristan. c u then :)**


	6. Chapter 6

_**Hi Guys, long time no post. Just focusing on my degree at the moment so updates will come as and when i have the time, sorry about that. But all the reviewsd i've got recently really cheered me up regarding my stories, definate motivation boost. Also i got a new job, woop! But it really does cut into my free time.**_

_**I also have to ask what people think about Tristan? I always saw him as a very dark character, atleast that's how he came across to me in the movie. **_

_**Hope you enjoy guys :)**_

_**p.s. sorry about all the typos, too tired to edit. **_

**Chapter Six: aegri somnia**

"Ready?" His deep rumbling voice was filled with amusement.

"For twenty seven children? Who could ever ready for twenty seven children?" She gulped as Dagonet stepped up to the large doubles doors which separated their healing sanctuary from the corridor lined with the Towns unwanted children. The doors swung open with an ominous creak, two monks stood at the head of a long train of thin muddy girls and boys, none of whom looked older than ten years.

The elder monk stepped forward, sweeping his sunken black eyes over Aiyana before turning his gaze to the large Knight. "Sir Knight," his voice was terse and clipped. "I have gathered the usual unfortunates, we have three more this month. The Draper children lost both parents to the sweating sickness." His bow was as stern and unforgiving as the rest of his manner, he beckoned the young nervous looking novice behind him and they left without another word.

"Nice to meet you too sir, don't mind me sir, I'm only doing the godly work you are obviously so un-inclined to bother with."Aiya grumbled.

"Be good, Thomas is well meaning." Dagonet warned with a fond smile.

"If you say so," She continued to glare at the retreating figures, she was tempted to stick out her tongue but thought that it might undermine her authority with the gathered children, she satisfied herself with a disgusted wrinkle of her delicate freckled nose. Dagonet turned his gaze to the bedraggled children shuffling their feet and wiping their small runny noses, those familiar to the monthly routine were staring at the strange woman next the large Knight. Their expression ranged from fascination to blatant mistrust.

"Who's hungry?" Dagonet asked the assembled crowd. Every pair of eyes immediately swung to the Knight and a cacophony of "me's" chorused.

"Well then, it's a good thing that we've a nice venison stew with potatoes and vegetables waiting for you." The children bounced eagerly on the balls of their feet. "Just as soon as you've your lice check." A collective groan reverberated across the hall.

Aiya could clearly see that this was a routine between Dagonet and the children, she smiled as one of the youngest girls stepped forward to slip her tiny pale hang into that of the large Knight's. They all trailed after him as he made his way into the main hall which was filled with the smells of bubbling stew and hot tea, a dozen boys and girls flitted around the large man. They chattered questions about the strange new lady and why they were getting venison stew and not the normal rabbit. Aiya was about to follow when the sound of a young voice whispering stopped her, she turned and allowed her eyes to re adjust to the darkness of the hall. Three pairs of dark eyes stared at her from a corner.

"Aren't you coming? You won't want to miss the stew, it's very good, I promise." She used the tone that she remembered her mother using on her sisters when they were nervous, the largest of the three figures stepped forward so that he stood in front of the other two.

She almost gasped at his state; from his height he had to be nearly eleven but lack of food had made his body stick thin and his sharp cheekbones jutted out of his face. His eyes were such a dark brown that they seemed almost black, they contrasted sharply with the shock of blond hair the flopped across his forehead and fell into his eyes. She knew if properly washed it would look almost white. He had dried blood on his brow and an impressive bruise painted across the left side of his face, someone much bigger and stronger had laid a solid punch onto his tiny delicate face.

"There aint no stew," he spat out.

"Yes there is, can't you smell it?" She asked softly despite the strong urge to snap right back.

"He don't smell much since the blacksmith done broke his nose." Piped a small ruddy face which poked out from behind the angry boy to stare at Aiya in pure fascination. The girl had her brother's eyes, she could be no more than six, her hair was not blond like the boys but brown and set in wild curls which hung limp and dirty across her rail thin shoulders. Despite her thinness her cheeks still managed to dimple, Aiya adored her instantly.

"Well then, I will have to show you won't I." She suggested softly. "Who is your little shadow?" She asked the girl, small white hands gripped the small girl's skirts tightly, she saw small feet shuffle from between her legs.

The girl reached behind and grasped hold of something which promptly let out an indignant squeak, she dragged out an even tinier, dirtier and male version of her. "This here is meep, he's three." The girl stated proudly though she hadn't released her tight grip on the boy's shirt.

"Meep? That's a very odd name." Aiya pointed out.

"It's acos he don't speak he just meeps." The girl said, "My name is Grace, that there's Milo." She said jerking a thumb towards the scowling blond boy who promptly thwacked her across the back of the head.

"What'd I do?" The girl yelped as she brought her free arm up to protect her head from further assault.

"I tol ye not to be tellin anyone our names." He growled at his sister.

"You're the Draper children," Aiya observed. Grace stuck out a tongue at Milo who raised a hand in warning, a furious hiss welled up before Aiya could stop it. Three small head instantly whipped around to stare at her; Milo looked defiant, the younger ones just looked afraid.

"There'll be no violence in my presence young master Draper. Is that clear?" She demanded in her most commanding noble voice.

"Ye can't tell me what te do." He growled.

"I can and I will, I'm the best chance you have for filling your bellies tonight. And those two look like they won't be able to stand another night without a good meal." Aiya tilted her head towards Grace and Meep, who were avidly sucking in the smell of the stew which rolled into the hallway in thick waves.

"There you are! What are you still out here fo-" Dagonet stopped when he saw the three tiny children stood in front of her.

"These are the Draper children; Milo, Grace and Meep. They're a little hesitant." She informed Dagonet as he ran his eyes over the children, taking in every bruise, cut and welt.

His eyes honed in on Milo. "You're in charge of these youngins?" he asked respectfully, Milo's chest puffed up proudly.

"Aye, I'm the oldest man left in the Draper household." He informed Dagonet, Aiya hid a smile behind her palm.

"Then I suppose I should ask your permission to bring your siblings inside?" Dagonet continued with the same grave expression and respectful tone, Aiya was impressed how quickly Milo thawed under Dagonet's treatment. She felt stupid for treating the boy like a child; he had lost both his parents and from the state he was in she could see they had no one else to care for them. He was in charge of their little family, he'd had to stop being a child as soon as he'd lost his Da and Ma. She kicked herself for not recognising this, she would have felt exactly the same if anyone had dared to question her ability to care for her sisters. It was all a matter of pride.

"Coming, Aiya?" Dagonet asked. Consumed by her thoughts Aiya had not noticed Milo's acquiescence; he was strolling into the infirmary as if he'd never had a single doubt and his sister was trotting along merrily beside him as Meep toddled along, still clinging to his sisters skirts.

"Of course." She huffed, sweeping past the smirking knight. As soon as she entered the hall she was greeted with the sight of twenty seven children lined up patiently waiting their have their hair combed for lice, each were clutching in their grasp a steaming cup of hot tea which she assumed Dagonet had provided. Some sipped delightedly and most hummed happily as the warmth spread through their bones, others gulped the tea hurriedly as if afraid that it would be snatched from them at any time. Aiya recognised the behaviour, she herself had felt the clawing pain of starvation and the fear that any food won would be taken.

"Help yourselves to one of them cups on the side. Then take yourself the end of that line and wait your turn." Dagonet explained as he ushered the children from the small oak table containing the tea to the long line of children.

"What for?" Milo demanded.

"To be checked for head lice." Dagonet told him. "Don't think about quarrelling with me youngster, it's mandatory for anyone who wants their dinner." Some of the older boys smirked as Milo grumbled his acceptance.

Aiya made her way to the two wooden stools by the fire, next to each stool stood a small table containing a large bowl of warm water, several very fine tooth combs, several bottles of pungent lice killing liquid and a pile of towels. Mistress Farrow had told her, in the most mind numbing detail, about every healing routine she would need to know when it came to treating the city's orphans. She reached up the messy knot of curls on her head, she pulled the long wooden peg that held them together allowing the curls to fall before scooping them up and twisting them into a sever bun which she re pinned before sweeping her skirts out and sitting carefully so that they wouldn't be completely wrinkled when she stood again. She looked up to call over the first child, a hot flush raced across her body, Dagonet's eyes watched her with an intensity which both thrilled and scared her. She blinked, his eyes were now firmly fixed on the fire as he helped himself to the second stool.

"Lo mistress." A small voice whispered, Aiya's eyes flew from the knight to the small girl shuffling from one foot to another in front of her.

A genuine smile spread across Aiya's face, the girl had a heart shaped face filled with freckles, riotous auburn waves piled around her face. "You may call me Aiya," she informed the girl as she folded her legs underneath her and sat so that Aiya could see the top of her head. The girl didn't answer but Aiya could clearly see the blush which painted her pale skin, she picked up a comb and lightly coated it with the pungent lotion before placing it in the girls parting and running it firmly through the girl's hair.

It was painstakingly slow work and Dagonet got up several times to re-fill the children's cups with the sweetened tea so that their boredom and hunger would not turn into mischief. Aiya was patient and diligent, eventually she took her cue from Dagonet when it came to squirming children, they swiftly realised that it would only be more painful if they tried to pull their head away from Aiya's diligent comb. Two hours and many bowls of lice filled water later she was surrounded by thirty damp haired, sleepy, lice free children.

"They'll need a change of clothes and a wash before we feed them, this cursed rain we've been having has left them all muddier than pigs." Dagonet said without looking directly at her. "The girls will go in one room and the boys in another, it should be quicker than normal with two of us to watch em."

"Do we have water for them to wash with?"Aiya asked as she wrestled with a giggling Meep who found having his hair towel dried incredibly funny.

"We've the communal baths down the hall, surely Mistress Farrow showed them to you?" Aiya shook her head, Dagonet sighed impatiently. "There's one for men and one for women; just big rooms with large heated pools of water. Arthur had them built for staff use based on the some sort of Roman model."

Aiya nodded her understanding, she was very familiar with public baths from her time in Rome, she wondered how Arthur had explained the concept to British builders who were used to simple stone keeps and straw houses. "And the clothes, where will we find them?" She asked.

"Arthur asks the wealthier city people and the landed gentry to donate either money or clothing. We have a store room." Dagonet said still making as little eye contact as possible, when he did meet her gaze she saw his cheeks flush. She wondered what she'd done to fluster the large knight, he really was the most peculiar person.

"What do you say to a nice hot bath, hmm?" She asked the wriggling bundle of boy in her grasp, he merely increased his giggling and squirming.

"Alrite youngins! I want all the lasses lined up by the hearth and all the lads by the table, sharpish." Dagonet ordered in his most militaristic tone, it brooked not a word of disagreement from the gathered children and despite their exhaustion and hunger they scrambled to obey.

As soon as she entered the large underground chamber which contained the enormous heated pool of water all of her charges were shrieking with joy and ripping the muddied rags from their bodies before flinging themselves bodily into the pool.

"Careful girls! Those of you who can't swim stick to the outer edges of the water or you will drown and don't think I'm going to get all wet jumping in to save you! That means you Grace Draper!" The aforementioned girl grinned cheekily and dunked her lotion covered hair under the water fanning out the locks around her muddied body. Filled with half a dozen mud coated children the water quickly clouded over.

"Miss! Miss!" A rail thin girl of about twelve beckoned to Aiya from the edge of the pool, her name was Maude and she was a plain looking thing but Aiya had noticed her gift at calming the other girls and she had been shocked to notice the thin girl reading some of the written instructions left for Aiya by Mistress Farrow. Dagonet had told her not to expect much from the village children, before Arthur's rule no value had been placed on an educated mind.

"Yes?" she asked.

"There aint enough soap! And it aint all flowery like usual." She pointed out as if this were a grave and unforgivable error on the part of the new girl.

"Isn't," Aiya corrected automatically.

Maude rolled her dull brown eyes. "There isn't enough Soap, can you get some more?" She asked hopefully.

"I suppose there's no point in going through all the trouble of getting fresh clothes just to fill them with dirty bodies," Aiya mused aloud. "Watch the others whilst I'm gone, if anyone drowns it's your head that'll roll." Aiya teased, only half serious.

"Thas alright miss, I know how to swim." Maude stated proudly and pushed out into the centre of the pool to prove her point.

Aiya closed the heavy wooden door firmly behind herself, she paused to shake her head as the shrieks and giggles of the girls inside bled through the thick stone walls. Just another way for her to outrage the servants, allowing half a dozen muddy orphaned commoners to run riot in the castle baths.

She took the twists and turns of the castle corridors at a relatively quick pace, she worried about the sheer destruction that would be caused in the minutes it took her to fetch lavender soap from the healing quarters. She rounded a dark corner and ran smack into a wall. Metal bars encased her torso and prevented her from flying backwards onto hard cobbles.

"Owwww," she groaned softly as she pushed herself away from the wall that shouldn't have been there. She gasped and pulled her hands back towards her torso when she felt warm cloth beneath her fingers, her eyes opened and were met with a v-necked black cloth shirt and leather jerkin, she pulled her gaze up past firm muscled collarbones to meet dark eyes.

"Hello little mouse, you've been avoiding me." His voice was as dark and dangerous as she remembered, her skin broke out into goose bumps and the hair at the back of her neck stood up.

"Have I?" Aiya squeaked as she put her hands flat against the hot chest in front of her, she had intended to push herself out of the man's grasp but as soon as she touched him all she could think about was the steady pulse of his heart beneath her fingers and the heat that poured into her body from his.

He chuckled deeply, the corners of his mouth twitched briefly into a predatory smile. "Yes, you have." He leant closer and sniffed at her hair.

"W-what are you doing? S-stop that." She stammered.

"Ahh, I smell dirt," he sniffed again. "Village dirt, put you in charge of the little ones, has he?" she knew from the amused tone on his voice that this was not an actual question.

"Not that it's any of your concern, but yes, I am assisting Sir Dagonet with the orphans." She snapped, un-amused by the game he was obviously playing with her. She resumed her efforts to free herself.

His arms tightened around her waist and she squeaked as it forced much needed air out of her breathless body. "That shiner on your pretty face is only just fading, it's a little soon to be asking for another one, don't you think little mouse." Every word rumbled from his hard chest shot through her sweating palms and up into her trembling body.

"You wouldn't dare," as soon as she'd said the words she knew they weren't true.

He pressed the side of his face to hers, his lips brushed her ears, and she shivered noticeably. "Oh I would, there's nothing worse than an unbroken mare, specially a lovely thoroughbred such as yourself." His hot breath raced down her neck, she gasped against him.

"I-I'm no thoroughbred, just some thieving country girl." She whispered furiously. "And you _will not_ break me." She hissed before driving her knee up between his legs as hard as she could manage.

The effect was instantaneous, his arms tightened excruciatingly around her ribs forcing the rest of the air out of her lungs, he then released her in favour of cupping the delicate body parts she had so brutally assaulted. He snarled as his free arm shot out to grab her, but she was already fleeing, her starved lungs desperately pulling air into her body, her small feet pounding away on the hard cobbles as she raced back down the corridor. She moaned in relief as she reached her destination, she swung the heavy door open and flung herself into the room before slamming it shut behind herself.

"Miss?" A timid voice echoed in the now silent room. Aiya peeled herself away from the door which her body had been flattened against, she looked down to see Grace wrapped in a big fluffy towel biting her lip as her worry filled eyes watched Aiya's slumped and panting form.

"I-I didn't get the soap." She stammered to the room full of towel cloaked girls, all staring at her in bewilderment.

Maude stepped forward. "That's alright, Grace found some in a cupboard. We've all finished." She pointed out when Aiya made no move to organise the children.

Aiya straightened and stepped completely away from the door, she tugged her crumpled dress as straight as possible and only then did she realise that her hair was now unbound and the delicate carved wooden pin that had been holding it together was missing. She twisted her mass of brown curls and tucked them under her collar.

"I don't suppose you found the spare clothing in that cupboard as well?" She asked Maude.

"Aye miss. I was just folding them into piles on account of size." Maude informed her.

"Thank you Maude, that was very helpful of you. Well, I suppose we should start getting you all dressed. Maude you pick yours first so you can help me with the others and everyone line up, I want the youngest at the front." No one moved, they were all still staring at the flustered and shaking woman in front of them. "Do as I say now or you all eat naked!" she snapped, there was a flurry of movement as the girls scrambled to obey.

Aiya looked down to see a small white hand tugging at her skirts, it was Grace. "There's no need to be afeared miss. Whatever it is, you're safe in the castle, everyone knows King Arthur and his Knight don't let folk get hurt in the castle." With that little Grace toddled off to join the line of girls.

"What if it's the Knights who want to do the hurting?" She asked the air as her hand went to the ear still warm from Tristan's voice.

_**Hope y'all enjoyed! Please please leave a review. reviews= MOTIVATION, WOOP. **_


	7. Chapter 7

**Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed. I hope i managed to answer any worries or questions ppl had in personal review replies if not, send me a message and i will try to resolve whatever issues you have with the story. **

**It was so nice to see all the return reviewers! Yay, i love having loyal readers, i appreciate every single comment you guys give. **

**Can't wait to hear what you guys think about the new developments, i hope you like it :)**

**Chapter Seven**

Aiya allowed herself a moment of total satisfaction as she stood in a darkened corner of the room and watched the dozens of clean, warm and well dressed children shovelling down bowls of hearty stew. There was more than enough for second and third helpings, none of the orphans were shy about asking for more, they would take their meals wherever they could.

"You look very pleased with yerself," Dagonet noted as he came to lean against the wall next to her.

"Perhaps a little, though it seems pointless if all we're going to do is send them back out into the cold and the rain to starve all over again," she observed as they listened to the sounds of children's giggling and slurping.

"They're more grateful than you'll ever know for the kindness they receive here today," he told her softly.

"I'm sure they are, but why should they be so grateful for something that should be a basic right for all. And how many, I wonder, will not be here the next time around? For how many will the cold and the harshness of life be too much?" she asked more of herself than of the Knight.

"Tristan was right about you," Dagonet noted.

Aiyana started at the mention of the other Knight, she stared at Dagonet. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"You're different than most, not just some daft little common lass thieving to feed her family, we get plenty of those through these doors and you aren't one of em. Aye, you're something new." He observed before moving away from her to yet again re-fill empty bowls.

Aiya winced as the door squeaked shut behind her, she needn't have worried about waking her sisters as both were sat at their small table eating cheese and giggling to one another over the soft candle light that barely illuminated the small room. Ria assessed Aiya's damp crumpled clothing with a sniff before turning back to the small block of cheese on the table.

"If you're hungry, there's bread to go with the cheese," Ria offered.

"Lookit Aiya!" Mari said proudly as she stood from the table and twirled, royal blue skirts fanned out around the swirling girl.

"Where on earth did you get those clothes?" Aiya asked as she dropped her weary body onto one of the rickety wooden chairs provided for them, she groaned as the boots on her feet refused to give way.

"The queen gave them to me!" Mari squealed as she began to spin faster and faster.

"Stop that," Ria snapped. "You'll make yourself sick."

Mari huffed and flopped onto the floor to help Aiya with her boots. "Thank you love," Aiaya stroked a hand over Mari's golden girls. "The dress is beautiful, why did she give it to you?"

"It had been made for the daughter of one of her ladies but she grew loads over the summer and I was the only one small enough to fit it! Isn't it fabulous! I look like a lady again!" Mari giggled as she placed Aiya's boots by the fire to dry.

"Hush your mouth silly! Do you want us all found out?" Ria hissed, the little girl ducked her head allowing her curls to obscure her face.

"M'sorry," Mari mumbled.

"Sorry won't be good enough when we're all carried off back to Beechwood to be married off for our fortunes," Ria seethed.

"That's enough Ria," Aiya beckoned Mari over and pulled the sulking girl onto her lap. "We could be any number of Ladies whose parents lost all when the Romans fled this god forsaken spit of rock. Even if they were to discover the quality of our blood there is no way for them to discover our family name or what would await any potential husband in Rome if he were to claim us."

"But why would we have been left behind, hmmm?" Ria asked simply.

"Oh for god's sake Ria there could be any number of reasons, my point is if someone truly makes a substantiated accusation it isn't the end for us, it's near impossible for anyone to find out who we really are. So I want everyone to stop worrying all the time and start concentrating on paying of our debt here," Aiya hissed softly at her sister as she soothed Mari who had started whimpering as soon as the argument began.

"Why?" The little girl in her lap asked.

"Why what?" Aiya asked.

"Why do we have to pay it off so quickly? Can't we just stay here? I like it here, the queen is lovely, and Miss Sophie gave Ria and I bird embroidery to do today since we're so good at it and all. Everyone treats us nice and we have food and pretty dresses. I like it. I don't want to leave." Maris said hopping off Aiya's lap and sulking over to her bed where she curled up with her pillow clutched tightly to her torso.

"Oh angel," Aiya crooned as she perched herself on the edge of Mari's. "We can't stay here forever dearest, I know I said it would be very difficult for anyone to find us out but this place is filled with clever curious people and we've become the centre of gossip. Besides we've no independence if our labour is tied to their whims." She stroked Mari's hair until the girl jerked herself out of range and curled up to face the wall.

"I hate this, and I hate you, and I hate moving and I hate damp leaky cottages and running away all the time," Mari fumed.

"Well when you're all grown you can do whatever you want but for now I'm in charge and I say we move as soon as we've paid, I am sorry dearest but that's the way it is," Aiya said firmly, Ria nodded in approval of Aiya's stiff treatment of Mari.

"Well, I'm for bed, I've piles of laundry waiting for me tomorrow and not a soul to help me through it." Aiya said as she stripped her sodden clothes and dumped them in a pile on the floor, she slipped her oversized linen sleeping shirt over her head, Ria huffed and gathered up the crumpled heap of discarded clothing. She separated the garments and draped them over the chairs before moving them in front of the fire, steam immediately began to rise from the sopping clothing.

"I thought Sir Dagonet assisted you with your work in the Healer's wing?" Ria asked with an all too innocent smile.

"What do you mean by that?" Aiya asked as she slipped into the cold rough bed sheets.

"I was merely asking-"

"I know what you were asking Ria, I want to know what you meant by it." Aiya said simply, she was too tired for sly hints and frivolous gossip.

"Miss Sophie, who is in charge of the Court Tailors, overheard Sir Dagonet talking about you with the King himself. Apparently it was the Knight who pleaded for leniency on your behalf to the King, His Majesty demanded to know why Dagonet would request such a thing for a girl he had no formal attachments to." Ria informed her, Aiya could see Mari wiggling in excitement beneath her own bed sheet, she loved gossip almost as much as Ria.

"And? What was Sir Dagonet's answer?" Aiya asked.

"He said you were 'something new, something he'd never seen before' whatever that means," Ria flapped a hand dismissively. "Anyway, the whole court is a flutter about Sir Dagonet's interest in the new Healing assistant."

"Presumably they all believe I earned the position on my back?" Aiya grumbled.

"Not to worry dear sister, Miss Sophie will not allow any gossip surrounding our virtue; I saw her fair slap a scullery maid who commented on the possibility of a physical relationship between the Knight and yourself. Miss Sophie said that silly talk can ruin a woman's reputation and she wouldn't allow such a thing to happen on her watch," Ria talked of the woman as if she were a saint.

"She sounds a wise woman," Aiya commented sleepily.

"Oh she is, but you know as well as I do, no serious suitor will approach you now that there has been talk of you as a bed warmer," Ria said sympathetically.

"Good, we need no suitors here, and don't you forget it." Aiya informed her Ria as she allowed her heavy eyes to slip shut.

Aiya recited the ancient nursery rhyme her father had once used to sing to her as she darned the worn and aged bed clothes used in the Healer's wing, it was the only thing keeping her awake. She rolled her shoulders to relieve the tension that had gathered during the hours she had spent repairing the dozens of sheets, pillow cases, blankets and sleeping shirts. Her head pounded and her eyes ached, the candles in the tapers around the room had all burned low and the sunlight had faded, she squinted at the stitches she'd just put in and swore as she saw that she'd missed a loop.

"Tha's an interesting tune," Aiya yelped as she knocked over the candle on the small table next to her, hot wax flowed over her skin, she hissed at the burn and leapt up from her stool.

"God damn it!" She swore as the hot wax solidified on the sensitive skin of her wrist. A hand shot out and grasped her wrist firmly drawing it away from her body, she looked up into Tristan's black, amused eyes and began to tremble. He looked pleased at the red welts that appeared on her skin as he brushed off the wax.

"Ah," she tried to pull her arm away. "You're hurting me."

His grasp tightened as he pulled her closer. "Seems fair after your little assault yesterday," he murmured as he flicked off the last of the wax.

"I asked you to release me then just as I am asking you now," she fumed as her struggles increased. He let her go and she stumbled back into the table, she gripped its edge hard while she took in the sight of the man in front of her. He was dressed much the same as he had been the other night; loose black linen shirt tucked into the waist of his worn brown leather trousers, sturdy black boots and a belt carrying a several daggers.

"No you didn't," he sauntered towards her slowly, he even walked like a predator.

"Didn't what?" She huffed; tired of the games he seemed to love playing with her.

"Ask me to let you go," he smirked, she gasped in outrage.

"I-I of course I did!" She spluttered turning to busy herself with clearing up the mess she'd just made.

"Hmmm," she knew even as she heard him hum in disbelief that he was right, she wasn't about to admit that though. She felt his heat as me moved close to her back she saw him place his hands on the table on either side of her.

"You don't fit little mouse...you don't belong. Why? Hmmm? Who are you under all these drab skirts?" His lips flickered against her ear as he spoke, she could hear him smile as her body shivered against his.

"My name is Aiyana Boon, I was born in a small town called Camelot, Sixty miles from the fort-Ah!" He nipped sharply at her ear, cutting her off mid sentence.

"Enough!" He growled. "Foolish chit of a girl, do think this game will end well for you?"

"What game? I'm not playing a game! This is my life!" She spun quickly in his grip and shoved at his chest as hard as she could, he staggered back surprise flickered across his face before being replaced by irritation.

"That wasn't very nice," He wagged a chiding finger at her.

"Not another step forward!" she held out her trembling right hand, palm up, forbidding him to come any closer to her.

A predatory grin spilled across his angular face, he stepped forward. "No!" a small blonde blur sped past her and slammed into Tristan's front, he wrapped his arms around the small person to stop them both from tumbling to the floor.

"No uncle Tristan!" a muffled yell from the face pressed against the front of the ferocious knight.

"Calm yourself Lucan, Miss Boon and I were just having conversation," he spoke softly to the boy as he ran a soothing hand over the mop of wheat coloured hair. She was surprised by his gentleness with the boy and by the boy's blatant affection for the knight; she could not picture Sir Tristan as an "uncle".

"Dag wanted you to stay away, he told you so before!" Lucan still had his arms firmly around the knight but his head was bent backwards so he could see the older man's face. Lucan's expression was fierce and determined.

"Your father was well into the ale when he said that, I wasn't causing any harm, was I Miss?" Tristan's expression dared her to upset Lucan, she knew she would pay dearly if she regaled the child with tales of entrapment and assault.

She smoothed her worried expression and smiled down at the stubborn boy. "Tristan and I were just talking," she assured him. The knight's eyes mocked her.

"You were shouting at him, I saw you!" he declared as he pulled away from Tristan to study her expression.

"She was just being silly, you know how women are, Vanora is forever shouting at Bors." Tristan assured the boy, his expression softened as he took the knight's words to be the truth.

"I still don't think you should be here Uncle Tristan," Lucan bit his lip, eyes flickering between Aiya and Tristan. He was torn between Tristan's words and Dagonet's.

"You're quite right Lucan," they were all shocked by the appearance of another person in the room, Aiya gasped and swept into a deep curtsy as soon as she laid eyes on the man's face.

"Sire," Tristan greeted his king with a cool nod of the head.

"Tristan, Lucan why don't you go and see if Gawain needs any help in the armoury?" They all heard the command in his suggestion, Lucan bowed solemnly and trotted from the room.

The King's eyes swept across Aiya as she stood from her curtsy, pausing briefly on the blistering skin of her wrist, a slight frown marred his handsome well groomed face. "I belief your duties do not oft bring you to this part of the keep Tristan, perhaps you have an injury for Dagonet to tend, though I do not recall sending you into combat recently." The King mused as he eyed his old friend and faithful Knight.

"Thankfully I am unhurt Sire," she heard the mocking tone in his use of the word.

"I am relieved," Arthur's mouth twitched into a smile that was barely there.

"I had several shirts for Miss Boon so repair since I hear she is such a talent, thought it appears I have forgotten to bring them with me sire." Tristan spread his empty hands in mock astonishment.

"So it appears, perhaps you should recover your missing garments." Arthur suggested.

"Your Majesties' infinite wisdom is of great comfort, I shall do so immediately." Tristan bowed and sauntered out of the room.

"You are well, Miss Boon?" The king asked.

"Aye, your majesty." His eyes flickered again to her wrist. "An accident with the candle sire, my eyes are tired from sewing and I knocked against the table."

"Miss Boon, the circumstance under which you arrived here were not particularly pleasant. However, I take my responsibility as master of this castle very seriously and as such I see myself as responsible for every soul under this roof. If you were ever to feel under threat or if you were to experience any kind of persecution I would hope that you would come to me," he smiled at that. "Though I understand I am not the most approachable of men, I do assure you that if you were to voice any such fears, measures would be taken to secure your safety.

"I understand perfectly, your majesty, but I have no such fears." She didn't know were the words came from or why she allowed herself to speak them. She was persecuted, she did fear, and she had been threatened. And here was the king himself saying that he would protect her from one of his own knights, yet she had no desire to hide from Sir Tristan.

He smiled as he surveyed the pile of mended cloth that had spilled into a pile on the floor when Tristan had shocked her, he began to pick up and fold a large linen shirt. "Please Sire! Let me do that." Aiya stepped forward with her hands outstretched to take the shirts.

He smiled ruefully at the garment before handing it to Aiya. "I am so used to doing for myself what everyone insists I must now pay servants to do for me that I often find it hard not to slip into old habits. Two years I have been king and I still scandalise my barons and my courtiers by tending my own horse." His laugh was short and un-amused.

"It is the true mark of a man; how he treats his animals." She said softly as she knelt to sort and fold the rest of the clothing spilled across the floor.

"My old teacher, Polonius, used to tell me thus." He said quietly, she kept her yes firmly fixed on the floor as she continued with her task. "Everyone has secrets Aiyana, I care not for the gossip of my men, nor do I care if people are not exactly who they say they are. You seem to be content with your new role and I foresee no problems with our arrangement, do not prove me wrong."

She heard his heavy footsteps leave the room, she did not realise she'd been holding her breath until it left her lungs in a deep relieved sigh. Perhaps their secret was not as safe as she had believed it to be? She now had two choices: to stay and hope for the best, or to run. It was a thought that haunted her that night as she tossed and turned in her bed listening to the soft sighs of her sleeping sisters. If they ran, she thought, would Sir Tristan let her go? And what would be the consequences if she were caught?


	8. Chapter 8

_Hey guys, back with a brandnew chapter, things are starting to get interesting. I was so pleased to see so many return reviewers. Please do take the time to review stories you like it and give writers some feedback, it really is a great motivator and i love to know what i'm doing right and what i'm doing wrong. _

_I'm a little strun out between uni work and my job so appologies for any silly spelling or grammar errors in this chapters but betweencoursework and i've done over 15000 words recently so i'm a little tired._

_Hope you enjoy and please motivate the author by giving feedback :) xxxx_

**Chapter Eight: Reason's Triumph **

"Ria, could you wait a moment?" Aiya asked as her sisters stood in the entrance to their rooms ready for work.

"Go on ahead Mari," Ria ordered. Mari obeyed with only the briefest of scowls. "Does this have anything to do with you getting up to wonder the halls of the fort in the small hours of the morning?"

Aiya sighed as she continued to stab at the hunk of cheese she hadn't been able to stomach eating for breakfast. "I'm afraid I was mistaken when I said that we were safe here," She was shocked to see the smallest hint of upset in Ria's eyes.

"I had suspected as much," Ria dropped her slim frame into the chair next to Aiya.

"How?" Aiya wondered.

"Sir Tristan's interest seemed altogether unhealthy; he is an astute man and a vicious one too. If it were only Sir Dagonet's gaze on you I would not have worried but Sir Tristan is a very different creature to his brother Knight," Ria mused as she finished the food on Aiya's plate.

"I forget how like our father you truly are," Aiya observed. "He could read people so well, you're correct in you observations regarding Sir Tristan. However, he is not our only problem, His Majesty observed that perhaps I was not who I claimed to be."

Ria's gaze sharpened as she turned her full attention to Aiyana. "He means to expose you?" she demanded, full of noble ire.

"No, he hinted that it was of no concern to him, but he is a great man with many people and more problems placed before him every day he rules this barbaric land. If a man so occupied as that is able to identify my lies so easily then it will be mere child's play for those who have made it their mission to unearth what we are hiding." Aiya confessed.

"Tristan," Ria concluded.

Aiya hated how the mere mention of the man un-nerved her so. "Aye, Sir Tristan. You are right; he is a dangerous man. The circumstances of our arrival did nothing to endear me to his fellow Knights and I am sure if he or the King were ever to voice their suspicions to Sir Elias then the young Knight would make it his mission to destroy us in recompense for my attempting to steal his precious sword," She mused.

"I believe you are right about Sir Elias, however, I do not think that the King or Sir Tristan would discuss such things with him." Ria cleared the now empty plate front the table, she turned again to face her sister. "You know I also have a lot of our dear aunt Sebila in me; I have an ear for gossip and I have taken advantage of our new position at court. These feckless British noblewomen believe their servants to be both deaf and dumb to all that goes on around them. Their talk is free and uncensored when I am quietly tucked in a corner embroidering their gowns."

"I would not be so quick to judge them Ria, we were once feckless noblewomen too. Your point?" she asked, irritated by her sister's brash dismissal of women she hardly knew.

"My point is the Queen's ladies focus is often on the King and his Knights and from their talk it seems that Sir Elias has not been completely welcomed into the fold, The King felt obligated to Knight the young man after he took two arrows to the shoulder defending the Queen from an assassins' attack on the fort. Apparently, Sir Tristan was most vocal in his opposition to Sir Elias joining their brotherhood." Ria's expression had gradually morphed into a self-satisfied smile.

"And why do you look so pleased by all this?" Aiya demanded, she had a pounding headache from her late night walk of the Fort and she was in no mood for cryptic words.

"I am saying that whatever suspicions they may have about you I do not believe they would willingly divulge said thoughts to Sir Elias, whether to spite him or because they do not believe him worthy of their breath, wither way it is good for us. And you said his majesty did not seem inclined to make anything of the matter..."

"So I'm just over reacting, is that it?" Aiya huffed as she stood to don her boots.

"I believe so, I'm not just saying all this because I have become attached to our life here, though I confess that I feel more secure than I have in years. In no other home would I have even thought of sending Mari anywhere unaccompanied, yet here I am shooing her off to work at the other side of the keep all by herself. But I do not truly believe that anyone means us any harm." Ria practically pleaded as Aiya stubbornly refused to meet her sister's eyes.

"What about Sir Tristan? Not moments ago you were calling him a vicious creature." Aiya pointed out as she twisted her hair into a simple plait.

"His interest in you is worrying in its intensity but I believe it to be merely carnal-"

"Ria!" Aiya gasped at her sister, embarrassment quickly flushed the younger girl's cheeks.

"Oh I won't apologise for being aware of the base nature of man, I remember the reason our uncle had to hide us, they are simple creatures controlled by lust and violence. Which is why, Sir Tristan is less of a threat than I first thought him to be. Once he realises you are no longer a thief and most definitely unwilling to warm his bed he will hit something with a sword, slake his lust with a wench from Vanora's and move on." Ria's faced had steadily reddened throughout her diatribe though her belief in her own words was obvious despite her embarrassment at their content.

"Ria, I pray that it is as simple as all that, but if it is not then I want to be fully prepared for us to have to flee. Day or night we must be ready, when I give the word we will run hard and fast and we will most certainly never look back." Aiya promised, she held her sisters gaze until the younger girl nodded her acceptance.

"Trust me when I say that staying is for the best, not just for Mari and me but also for you. Here you don't have the burden of worrying where our next meal will come from or how you will pay for the clothing on our backs. There's a library full of books for us to learn from and we have a reputable occupation." Ria's relief and happiness seeped out of her. Aiya was shocked by her commitment to staying at the wall; Ria doggedly guarded her emotions from even her sisters, her willingness to fight for their new life showed Aiya that they had been put on the right path.

"Very well, I will make no preparations to leave beyond the most basic. But, we will review the situation in a few weeks and we will not tell Mari a single word of what passed here," Ria was already nodding avidly in agreement.

* * *

The smell of warm clean clothes filled the small room, Aiya inhaled and filled her nostrils with the scents of Lavender and rose that infused the sticky liquid soap Dagonet brewed to treat the dirty linens of the healing wing. It relaxed her instantly, she smiled to herself as she continued to remove the warm dry cloud like sheets from the rows of wooden stands which stood tall in front of the drying room hearth.

"You look far too pleased with yourself?" A dry voice commented from behind her, Aiya sighed as she recognised the dulcet tones of Mistress Farrow.

"Aye mistress," she said simply.

"Well girl, what have you done to deserve such a care free soul? Have you baptised your poor godless charges? Perhaps you have confessed your multitude of sins to our blessed priest?" Every word bit into Aiya's small reserve of tolerance, she clenched her teeth and pushed aside thoughts of murder.

"No mistress, I was merely pleased with a job well done." She indicated the rows of clean laundry.

Mistress Farrow let out a deeply amused chuckle. "My dear child, it is wicked vanity to congratulate oneself for doing simple necessary tasks such as laundering dirty linens. Vanity is a sin, one you would do well to avoid." The imposing woman turned her large frame towards the door through which she had entered; her expression was one of pure satisfaction.

"What exactly is that supposed to mean?" Aiya kicked herself as soon as she heard the words leave her mouth; she had always been terrible at controlling her temper.

"Excuse me?" Farrow's face promised hell if Aiya did not immediately alter her tone to one of deference.

"_You would do well to avoid_, why me in particular, hmmm? Have I shown some previous proclivity for vanity? Do I carry around a pocket mirror in order to continuously admire my complexion? Perhaps I fail your test of humility because I do not inflict self harm for every sheet that is not correctly folded, or for every bed that is not correctly made? Do i-"

"That is enough!"Aiya could have sworn she levitated several inches off the floor when the deep booming voice rang through the room. Dagonet stood in the doorway, expression thunderous.

"You would do well to discipline you servants, Sir Dagonet." Mistress Farrow hissed.

"Rest assured I will do so Mistress, if you would kindly excuse us?" He asked softly with a polite half bow for the older woman. She nodded and swept her considerable bulk from the room not before favouring Aiya with one last triumphant glance.

"Thank god you showed up, I was ready to drown her in one of the washing tubs."Aiya teased the large knight as she returned to the sheet she had been folding before Mistress Farrow's interruption.

"You'll put that down and face me when I speak to ye," The large knight growled. Aiya faced the man, sheet slack in her hand as shock reverberated though her body, his fierce expression remained.

"Dagonet-"

"I did not give ye permission te speak!" he snapped. "I make allowances for your obvious inexperience but under no circumstances do you address a superior with such disrespect."

"Superior?" Aiya fumed.

"Aye! Superior, Farrow as good as paid for this whole wing, as benefactor she is awarded the title of Mistress of Healing! She is, therefore, your superior!" Dagonet boomed.

"You've heard the way she speaks to me every time she and I cross each other's paths! You can't expect me to just stand there and take it!" She raged, she realised that her anger had more to do with her shock over Dagonet's unexpected anger.

"I can and I do!" He bellowed.

"And why in God's name is that?" she hissed, her cheeks were flushed red with embarrassment.

"Because that is the way things work! You respect your elders whether you think them worthy or not, you obey your superiors whether you think them wise or not, it is the way things are and the way things have always been." His temper cooled as he talked, his voice eased from a roar to a dull grumble. He looked older than his years, more tired than she had seen him in a long while.

"Just because that's the ways things have always been it does not mean that's the way they should be. I'll respect her when she treats me with at least a little dignity." Aiya's temper still sizzled.

"If that is the way you feel then you may find employment elsewhere," Dagonet looked pityingly upon her before leaving the room.

"Employment? It's hardly employment when I don't get paid a damn thing for cleaning up after other people all day!" The sound of the doors to the healer's wing closing was the only response she received. She threw down the clean sheet in her hands, a hot tear trickled down her face and she swiped angrily at it. She stood there a long while lingering on the thought that she did not like the feeling of Dagonet being angry at her.

"I'd pick that up before you have to wash it all over again," Aiya gasped at the unexpected figure in the doorway, she recognised Gawain' rugged blonde locks and bearded face.

"I don't need a knight to tell me how to do my job," she grumbled as she shook dust off the crumpled sheet.

He chuckled. "Well, you're almost as grumpy as Dag," he observed as he stepped forward and picked up the other end of the large white expanse of material, he stepped back and tugged it straight. They folded in silence for several moments, hands free of material he stepped forward and swiped the little remaining dampness from beneath her eyes.

She batted his hand away. "I wasn't crying, it's just all the dust," she insisted. Placing all the new fresh linens in a large wicker basket and propping it on one hip.

"Of course," he smiled indulgently, guffawing when she hissed at him in passing. He followed her to the long hall filled with empty beds. "It'll get done twice as fast if you let me help."

She shrugged her acquiescence and began clothing the bare beds in pure white lavender scented softness, after a while she began to hum her usual tunes, forgetting the scruffy knight who had fetched another basket and was working his way down from the other end of the hall to meet her in the middle.

"I assume it was you who put our large friend in such a foul temper," Gawain observed with a grin.

Aiya snorted derisively. "It was he who began the argument, stupid pig headed lout." She grumbled.

Gawain guffawed again and she allowed herself a slight smile at the other man's easy humour, he was reputed to be one of the most jovial knights, forever playing silly practical jokes on his brothers and even the king. He took little notice of convention and propriety; tending his own horse as most of the knights did, not allowing servants cleaning his room preferring instead to do it himself, he wore the same scruffy patched garments week in week out. Ria had sniffed at his dishevelled state but Aiya liked the young knight, he held the darkness that comes from a career of killing at bay with good humour and simple pleasures, a talent only he and Gawain had managed to master.

"He has his faults, but it's rare for him to lose his temper, you must have really riled him up." Gawain said.

"He's about as sophisticated as a dirt clod and as controlled as an angry bear," she groused fluffing the pillows with more zeal than was necessary.

Gawain continued to chuckle. "Now we both know that's not true, our lads a good un, perhaps if you apologised." He suggested, ducking as Aiya squawked and threw the pillow in her hands at his grinning face.

"Me? Apologise? You don't even know what happened!" She huffed indignantly.

"He scolded you for mouthing off to that overstuffed peacock, Farrow. And you didn't like it one bit," he lent against the bed thoroughly pleased with his own brilliance.

"That's one thing all you knights have in common," she groused.

"What's that pet?" he smiled winningly.

"Sheer bloody arrogance," she turned and marched to farthest end of the room to finish the beds furthest away from the spluttering knight. He was prevented from answering by the heavy doors swinging open, Sir Lancelot strode into the room decked out in padding and weaponry.

"Bandits in the Forest of Livia raided half a dozen villages last night; we ride out as soon as possible," He was out of breath obviously having sprinted from the armoury to the healer's wing. "Your kit is assembled in the courtyard."

"Wha-" Aiya began.

"Prepare the wing for casualties; soldier and civilian. We usually bring them here until Arthur can gather resources for those who wish to resettle, there'll be men women and children. I know not how many." Lancelot rattled off as Gawain sprinted from the room.

"Aye, Sir Knight." Aiya bobbed a shaky curtsy. "Good Luck."

He turned and clapped a hand softly on her shoulder. "Do not fear, my brothers and I didn't survive a Viking invasion to fall at the hands of some half starved peasants." He smiled kindly and left her.

She stood pillow case in hand staring at the wall for a few moments before dropping it and running out the room, she flew down corridors and up staircases, panting she stopped before a simple oak door with a small chalk covered plaque. She steeled herself before knocking timidly.

"I'm ready, tell the King I will be in the courtyard shortly." A familiar voice growled, she heard a chair fall and twisted the large metal handle gently.

"I said-" the large knight stopped when he saw her in the doorway.

"I-I just wanted to say...Well, I'm sorry about earlier...I was wrong." She shuffled nervously, eyes glued to her feet she wrung her hands together. "Be careful, I can't run that place on my own."

A large shadow fell over her, rough calloused fingers gently held her chin and lifted it. "I should not have shouted at you. This has not been a good day for me, my anger was not for you, forgive me." He said softly, eyes pinning hers, one large arm coming around her shoulders to pull her close.

"Oh, alright. Well, I should let you go." Her mind sent the instructions to her body to step away yet her body would not obey, Dagonet held fast.

"I could do with some luck," he smiled softly, eyes roaming her face.

"Good luck," she whispered feeling foolish yet not wanting to speak with his face so close to hers.

He smiled fondly. "Not like that that, sweetheart." His eyes closing were her only warning before large, hot, chapped, lips covered her small soft ones. His kiss was sweet yet demanding all at the same time, his threw his whole body into it; one arm sliding down to her waist to pull her firmly against him, his other reaching up to cradle her head, hand sinking into her hair. He dominated her thoroughly, taking advantaged of her shocked gasp to sweep his moist tongue into her mouth; exploring and caressing. Her hands came up to grasp his leather jerkin tightly , she whimpered and pressed harder against him as his heat seeped into her body, she felt completely cocooned by his massive frame. His lips quickened, his tongue thrust harder and deeper cruelly mimicking a much more carnal act, it was her first kiss and it consumed her. He pulled away with a soft growl. She panted against his mouth.

"No," she gasped one hand reaching up to pull him back to her. Her full red lips were moist and pouty, he muttered a curse and dove back down to taste her again. He groaned as he realised how one of his hands dwarfed the side of her face; she was so small and crushable, he knew if he desired he could hoist her up against him and place her down on any surface he wanted and... he steered himself away from that line of though by concentrating on the tiny little whimpers and moans bubbling up from her only to be swallowed by his demanding kiss. She was heavenly.

She gasped and wrenched herself away from him to flatten herself against the wall behind the door, he was still wondering why she had moved when a skinny serving boy appeared in the doorway.

"The other Knights are waiting for you, Sir Dagonet." The boy's gaze was respectfully lowered and he waited silently as the large man collected himself.

"Of course, I'll be there in a moment." The boy sensed his dismissal and left silently.

Aiya's eyes were closed as her chest heaved; she rested her head against the cool wall and breathed through the heat and desire which pumped through her veins. Her whole body tingled.

"Aiya," she felt his warmth move close to her. She reluctantly met his gaze, her pulse leapt and the desire returned, he looked like he wanted to eat her.

"I'm so sorry, I don't know what came over me."

"Don't!" she jumped at his sharp rebuttal. "Don't apologise for this, I want this memory to sustain me today."

He stepped forward and she skittered sideways. "You have to go, I'll be here when you return." She daren't look at him again.

He stepped forward quickly and placed a hot lingering kiss on her hair, breathing in her scent as he did so. "You're for me Aiya, I knew it the first time I saw you." With that he left her.

**There we have it: Aiya's first kiss, i hope it was a good one. What do you guys think? You have your fingers crossed for any particular developments? I hope no one's getting too OOC. xxx**


	9. Chapter 9

**Yay for reviews! See how quickly i was motivated by a mere four reviews? Crazy huh! I don't think i've ever done two days in a row chapter post.**

**Thank you to those lovely ppl who reviewed and favourited and just read it to be honest. Also, WintherRose you crack me up with ur reviews every time, i always look forward to getting your feedback :)**

**Hope you guys like; lets try and kick up the review count just to make me extar happy before my looming essay deadline swallows all my time :) xxx**

**Chapter 9:****A ministering angel.**

Two nights and three days passed in a haze of activity and worry. Working in close quarters with Mistress Farrow, readying the wing for the arrival of the refugees and the return of the soldiers, was not so irksome as it would have been had Aiya's mind not been fully occupied with the memory of the kiss and the thought that the Knights might be amongst the casualties. Wagons rolled into the fort filled with food, clothing and bandages. Aiya brewed endless amounts of remedies under the constant gaze of Mistress Farrow to ease pain, bring sleep, and prevent the festering of wounds. Spare clothing and linens were donated by the hundreds; and Mistress Farrow schooled Aiya over and over again in the importance of cleanliness and vigilance against infection. Aiya prepared herself for the sight of starving families and mutilated bodies, and in the twilight of the third day they came.

The tolling of the giant bells built to herald the return of the King and is men pulled her instantly from her thoughts, she raced to the massive cobbled courtyard carrying stretchers along with the dozens of servants who'd been spared to help with the enormous task which lay ahead of them.

Mistress Farrow was waiting for them when they arrived. "Place the stretchers against the back wall. Whatever comes through these gates I expect you all to remain calm and collected, you will listen to the instructions I give and obey them without question. I do not care if it is your husband, brother or son lying on one of those wagons you will treat the patients I assign to you and you will give them your fullest attention." A chorus of ayes met the Mistress' instructions. Other servants tasked with helping those who were not injured or in need of immediate assistance joined them under to wooden eaves surrounding the courtyard.

Heavy hooves approaching at a gallop shocked them all into straight backed alertness. King Arthur round the corner holding the reigns of another empty horse, it took Aiya a moment to recognise the unconscious figure seated in front of the King, held tightly in his grasp. "Tristan," she almost stepped forward but Mistress Farrow's words rang through her mind and she schooled her expression stepping back into line.

The other Knights followed hard on the King's heels as their horses danced to a stop on the hard cobbles, slick white sweat covering their coats, she observed Sir Gawain with Blood in his hair and Dagonet slouched low in his saddle. She whimpered softly as she saw him cradling his left arm against his torso; face tight with agony. Sir Lancelot and Bors slid from their horses and hurried to pull Tristan down from their King's grasp.

"Aiya, Yvane take a stretcher over to them," Aiya whipped one away from the wall and flew into the courtyard where she placed the long wood and animal hide contraption on the floor next to Tristan's unconscious form. Lancelot and Bors slid him onto it as she ran her eyes over his limp form, she paused on his stomach where the dark brown of his shirt was stained black with blood, and a long tear surrounded a gash in his abdomen. She controlled the urge to vomit.

"Can you lift him; I fear he is too heavy for us?" She heard Yvane ask the two knights.

They grunted and hoisted the laden stretcher up. "Yvane stay with me, Aiyana will see to the Knight's treatment, we cannot afford to assign two people to every injured man." Mistress Farrow's stern words were audible over the clamour of activity. Aiya saw nothing but Tristan's pale lifeless face as she walked sided by side with the stretcher to the Healer's wing, she led them into one of nearly a dozen smaller rooms which held a wooden table covered with lacquered leather set aside to treat the more serious wounds without distressing others. The shiny table would allow blood to flow off onto the floor below.

"What happened?" She asked shakily as they placed him gently onto the surface, she scrubbed her hands in a bowl full of pungent liquid.

"There were dozens more than we expected, a few were seasoned fighters. Tristan got separated by the mob and before we knew it he was down." Lancelot sounded as though he were living the battle all over again.

She came over to the table and gently cut away his shirt with a deadly sharp knife, once his chest was bare she could see the full extent of the wounds, bile rose in her throat. A trickle of blood seeped out of the gash on his belly. "Grab one of those towels from the side and press hard against the wound, quickly." Lancelot rushed to obey as Bors stared. Aiya pushed Lancelot aside once she noticed the state of his hands.

"Let me, if you're going to help I need both of you to thoroughly cleanse your hands in that bowl on the side." She ordered and they obeyed. She lifted the towel tentatively and looked at the amount of blood it had absorbed; there wasn't a lot which meant the blade hadn't reached any of his vital innards. Belly wounds were notoriously fatal but if his other injuries weren't too severe and if she could prevent a fever he might have a chance.

"The small table of ointments, towels and bandages. Place it next to me. Push that large pot of water back over the fire and ladle some into an empty bowl for me." She heard movement and assumed they did as they were told. She looked to the side and saw the table.

"Keep the pressure on," she said, Lancelot did so. With her hands free she quickly soaked several rags in the pungent clear spirit that only the hardest of men could stomach. "Bors I need you to clean one of the fresh blades from the drawer in this and then hold it over the fire until its red."

"Good god woman what are you planning?" Lancelot demanded.

"Move," he pulled the towel away and stepped back. She firmly cleared the wound of blood and dirt, discarding each rag as they soaked up the foul mess until the area was as clean as could be under the circumstances. "That wound is too jagged and wide to stitch and the time it would take to do so could be fatal for him, I have to seal it and the only way to do that is with a wide hot blade."

She reached for a small bent metal implement and began to peel away some of the cloth from his shirt which had become embedded in the wound. "I need more light," Candles were lit.

"You've done this before?" Lancelot asked as he returned to her side.

"No, but I've seen it done. It can work." Her voice shook less and less as she ignored the clamouring raging voices in her mind and focused on keeping Tristan alive.

"I pray you're right," he cursed as the injured knight groaned and twisted.

"Hold him down, it he moves he could spill his own guts all over the floor." Aiya hissed as the skin underneath her fingers rippled, more groans and curses spilled from the half conscious man. She reached for a vial with a green stopper and uncorked it, moving to Tristan's head she pressed it against his lips, he twisted his head away and pulled against his brother's grip.

"Please Tristan! You must drink." She pleaded griping his jaw in one hand and pressing the vial against his lips.

"Aiya," he rasped.

"Aye, it's me. You must drink." She begged anew.

"My Aiya, you haunt me...in death I hear you...Witch!" he surged against Lancelot's hold, Bors moved from the fire.

"No Bors! I need that blade scolding hot!" He moved back. "You're not dead you dumb animal! Now drink this before I leave you to die." She growled.

His mouth opened and she quickly poured the concoction down his throat, he swallowed and cursed, black eyes fixing on her. She knew he was not aware of aught that happened; they were clouded with pain and fever, her hopes dipped. She returned to the seeping wound and held a fresh towel firmly against it, he renewed his struggles.

"What was that witches brew?" Bors demanded.

"There's no witching about it; a very strong dose of Valerian and Chamomile to bring sleep as well as several opiates to dull the pain if sleep evades him." She told them, minutes passed and his struggles weakened, his head lolled uselessly and his eyes slipped shut.

Bors stepped up to her hot red blade in one hand. "I will hold the wound shut and you will press the whole blade flat against the length of the wound, you must press firmly for several moments before lifting it swiftly away. Lancelot the pain will likely wake him so you must be ready to hold him down." Her voice shook, she lifted the towel away and placed her hands inches apart either side of the gash, she saw the knife go down and smelled the burning flesh. The wound hissed and smoked, Tristan's mouth opened with a roar. The blade move up and away, Tristan's taught howling figure slumped into unconsciousness.

Lancelot breathed a heavy sigh of relief as he released his friend and stepped away from the table. "Sawdust," Aiya breathed.

"You've gone round the twist," Lancelot snorted.

"There's a bucket of sawdust in the corner; I need you to spread it on the floor to soak up the blood and then sweep it back into the bucket." She said as she moved over to the basin and rinsed her hands. She then returned to Tristan and moved her hands softly over her torso, assessing the dozens of other cuts which littered his chest and arms. She dipped more rags in the pungent alcohol and began to swipe them over the other wounds, including the cooling burn on his belly from the blade. She heard Bors and Lancelot begin to toss the sawdust over the damp bloody ground.

Only the two knights noticed when the door opened slowly, sweat coated her brow as she threaded a needle and began to stitch the longest and deepest of the wounds, movement continued around her as Arthur entered the room and conversed with his Knights about Tristan's condition. He took a broom and began to help clear the floor of the blood soaked sawdust, not once did she look up and notice her king cleaning and fetching.

She merely called out for more hot water and cleaning alcohol when spots of blood obscured her work or she discovered and new weeping cut on his ribs or his neck, livid dark bruises blossomed across his torso. She dabbed, stitched and wiped for hours. Candles were lit around her as the night darkened. When the last scratch was cleaned and the last cut was sewn she blinked and stepped away, dark spots danced across her vision and her knees collapsed under the weight of her exhausted frame. For three hours she had tended the Knight's unconscious form, strong arms caught her and moved her to a large wooden armchair in the corner of the room, a cup of hot broth was pressed into her hands and she gulped greedily at the hot salty brew.

"It was a bit of luck that brought you to us little'un," she looked up to see Bors' concerned face, he had caught her.

"Hmmm," her tired brain could conjure up no words and she continued to drink her soup.

"With our Dag injured we'd have lost Tristan for sure, twas always dangerous bringin the only skilled healer into battle with us." He stayed crouched in front of her, pushing her back into the seat when she rose with Dagonet's name on her lips. "He's alright, popped his shoulder out of joint and took an arrow to the shoulder but he saw to himself on the battle field."

"I should-" her head swam as she tried to push up out of the chair, she sat back with a thump.

"More broth?" Bors asked.

"Please," she said softly. "Have you seen him?"

"Aye, Arthur came in to check on Tristan, he said Dag is fine." Bors reassured her.

"The King was here?" she mumbled as her heavy eyes slipped shut, Bors merely laughed and went to get her more broth.

An angry growl shocked her into alertness, the empty second cup of soup slipped from her grasp onto the floor. She looked up to see Tristan twisting, the candle next to her had barely dipped so she knew she couldn't have been asleep that long. She moved swiftly when the disorientated man tried to move again.

"Lie still Tristan," she commanded as she pushed him back down. His hand shot out and squeezed her wrist.

"Water," he croaked. She brought a cup to him, lifting his heady she pressed the rim to his dry cracked lips. He choked on the first mouthful and she mopped at his lips, the rest went down smoothly, he emptied two more cups before he was satisfied. She set the vessel aside in favour of a cool damp cloth which she used to mop his hot sweaty brow, she hissed at the heat of him.

"Tristan," she called softly, bending low when he croaked inaudibly at her. "Tristan do you know where you are?"

His endless black gaze skittered across her. "Aiya," he breathed. She jumped when rough fingers touched her cheek lightly, she smelled the metallic tang of the blood coating his fingers. "Stay."

The hand dropped away and his eyes closed. "I'm not going anywhere," she whispered to him.

"He's awake?" The King asked as he moved quietly into the room.

"He was briefly, your majesty." She curtseyed.

"Please let us dispense with all the formalities, you just saved the life of one of my dearest friends." He smiled kindly at her.

"We don't know that yet your majesty, I fear he may be developing a strong fever." Aiya busied herself collecting the bloody rags and towels and dropping them into a large pot of boiling water bubbling over the roaring fire. If there were as many casualties as she had first seen in the courtyard and they were half as bad as Tristan it was going to be a very busy time for her.

"What can we do?" Arthur asked as he pressed the back of his hand to Tristan's sweaty brow.

"I'm brewing a tea of Echinacea, hyssop flower and liquorice roots that should help. Beyond that all we can do is keep his wounds clean and give him plenty of water." She told the king as she ladled said tea into a cup. It took both of them to get Tristan conscious enough to drink the Tea but eventually he cooperated and they managed to get several doses into him before he nodded off again.

"This is a tragedy the scale of which hasn't been seen in my short reign," Arthur sighed as he looked out of the window into the torch lit courtyard below, the fort was teeming with life as every able man woman and child was rallied to house and help the refugees.

"You're a good king, and you've prepared your people well, there are few nations beyond the Empire who can boast the skills and resources you have at your hands right now." She reassured him as she mopped Tristan's brow, he moaned gratefully.

"And what would a simple peasant girl know of the state of nations?" he asked with a mirthless smile.

She sighed. "I thought you didn't care about people's pasts but their present actions?" she asked.

He chuckled. "Quite right, and after today there's not much I wouldn't be willing to do to keep you here."

"Your majesty flatters," she blushed.

"Hardly; you're competent and calm in a crisis, you learn quickly and remember what you're taught. I confess I've been remiss about drafting in skilled healers; we have a few and most of those are snapped up by high paying positions in the homes of the wealthy landowners. It's been hard to keep anyone here when we can offer little in the way of luxuries and payment. Treating rotting war wounds isn't as glamorous as many hope it to be." He clenched and unclenched his fists in frustration.

"Well I won't be going anywhere for a while; I owe your majesty a great debt, and two years of indentured service beyond that." She reminded him.

He smiled sadly at her. "I would never forcefully keep you here if you had a true desire to leave; you tried to steal out of necessity not greed and you didn't succeed. There was no true crime in my eyes Aiyana." He said softly holding her gaze until she nodded her understanding, he went to the side of Tristan's bead and took the cloth from her, mopping his brow carefully.

"I won't let him go without a fight, I'll not leave his bedside until he recovers." She swore to him; there was something about Arthur that inspired a fierce and deep loyalty in her, she could see how was easy for the people to love this man.

"I thank you for your dedication," he leant close to Tristan. "You are in safe hands my old friend."

"Have you seen Sir Dagonet recently?" she asked as she stirred the large black pot over the hearth with a thick wooden stick, dark clouds of red seeped out of the porous linens.

"His injuries are not as severe as they sound, Mistress Farrow attended his care personally, and he sleeps deeply with the aid of those wondrous teas you brewed." Arthur reassured her, he left the room as quietly as he had entered.

She moved to the large wooden cupboards lining the side of the room and removed four thick sleeping pallets she laid three on top of each other by the window with a thick pillow and a heavy woollen blanket. She laid one single pallet by the hearth before sticking her head out of the door of the room.

Nothing could have prepared her for the sight awaiting her; the dozens of beds were filled with bandaged and bloody, men, women and children of all ages. A few had sheets pulled over their faces to signal their passing, groans and whimpers of pain filled the air as did the acrid tang of blood and the heavy musk of sweat. Maids and able bodied villagers rushed from bedside to bedside doing their best to comfort and heal, occasionally a door to a private healing room where those who required the most care were taken would open and a blood covered healer would rush out to gather more supplies. Relatives and children of patients gathered at bedsides weeping for those who were gone and those they knew soon would be.

In the midst of it all was Arthur, King of the Britons, carrying water and linens. Lending an ear to a weeping mother or a shoulder to an inconsolable child. Mistress Farrow was at his elbow introducing the people to their king and checking the status of their ailments, Aiya's respect for the woman increased as she saw how she knew every name and every wound. Aiya spied Gawain perching precariously on a small wooden stool by one of the large open fires Galahad was next to him; the blonde knight a had a large white bandage wrapped tightly around his head and the smaller dark knight's ribs had been wrapped in gauze he sat shirtless and oblivious to the chaos around him.

"Sir Galahad, Sir Gawain!" Aiya called across the room, their weary heads snapped up at the sound of her voice. She gestured and they made their way to her immediately.

"Is all well?" Gawain asked hurriedly.

"Yes but I need your help moving Tristan from the bed to a pallet on the floor, I need the table free to treat others but I must be near Sir Tristan in case his fever worsens so that I might help him." She explained as they followed her to their friend's bedside.

Tristan still lay on the stretcher he was brought in on, so fearful had they been of aggravating his injury by moving him, the stretcher was placed on the floor by the thick bed of piled pallets and with a groan Galahad and Gawain swiftly slid Tristan onto the plush make shift bed.

"Will he not sicken over here by the cool window and away from the hearth?" Galahad asked worriedly.

She smiled reassuringly at the blue eyed knight. "No, my fear is of the fever, if it rises to high and I cannot cool him then he will slip beyond us. I have seen some wake from the heaviest of fevers as half-wits; my father used to say the heat would boil their brains, it is a crude way to explain something that appears to be true." She explained, Galahad frowned deeper at her words.

"You fear this might happen to Tristan?" he demanded.

"It is merely the next obstacle, the first was blood loss and we overcame that, next comes fever and once that has passed we must watch for infection. It is the common course of any wounded man." She said honestly.

"Leave the girl be Galahad, she has better things to do then answer your blathering questions," he cuffed his young companion across the head.

"How is you wound Sir Gawain?" she gestured to the blonde man's head, his bandage was wet through with blood and grim.

"Just a little bump, nothing to worry your pretty little head over." He grinned cheekily but she could see the tightness in his eyes, and heard the dull slurring in his words.

"Hop onto the table if you please," the clipped tones brooked no word of disagreement. He grumbled as she wiped down the surface quickly and gestured for him to get on, he lay down with much muttering.

She cut the bandage away and hissed at what she saw. "Who treated you?" she growled.

"Uh oh," Galahad chuckled, she glared at him and she snapped his jaw shut.

"Pretty little thing by the name of Yvane, she wanted to attempt a rather unconventional method of lifting my mood," his leer left little doubt in her mind at what kind of 'treatment' Yvane had offered him.

"Galahad, could you please find Yvane and bring her here to me? I don't care is she's in the middle of treating the pope himself." Galahad obeyed immediately.

"I don't like the look on your face, love." Gawain observed.

"Hush," she snapped. The area surrounding the gash on his head had not been clean, the debris in his wound had not been tweezed out and she couldn't smell a trace of the pungent spirit she had used to clean all of Tristan's wounds only the salty tang of dried blood. Her brief exploration of the wound had irritated it and it was clear to her that it was far too large not to need stitching.

"Feckless little bitch," Aiya hissed as she slammed open doors and set down bowls.

Gawain's guffaw was half-hearted but still highly amused. "Such language from a delicate little flower!" he crowed.

The door opened again and she turned to see a scowling Yvane and a thoroughly intrigued Galahad. "Close the door behind you please, Sir Galahad," he frowned but obeyed. "I will be brief as I now not only have the multitude of sick to care for but I also have your pathetic work to undue."

"How dare you?" Yvane hissed as she stepped further into the room.

"No! How dare you? You stupid Girl! For the past three days you received the exact same tutelage that I did and then I find Sir Gawain in this state?" she gestured to the now uncovered wound on the Knights head. "It already reeks of rot you clay-brained harlot, too busy thinking of spreading your legs to administer proper care to one of this realms most valuable warriors! I could have you flogged for this."

"I did as I was told you uppity bitch!" Yvane hissed, looking to Gawain for support, his deathly scowl was enough to send her skittering back a few paces.

"You did nothing of the sort; the wound has not been cleaned of dry blood and dirt, nor has the surrounding area, nor has it been stitched which is clearly required as the damn thing is two inches long and won't stop bleeding!" Aiya bellowed.

"How dare-"

"She dares Miss Weaver because she is more skilled and more intelligent than you can ever hope to be, she is also your superior so you will _hold-your-tongue_!" Both Aiya and Yvane gasped when they saw Mistress Farrow stood in the doorway, both girls dipped a quick curtsy.

"Mistress I did all that I was instructed to do, she's merely jealous that she cannot have full care of the Knights," Yvane pleaded prettily. Mistress Farrow sniffed and swept over to where Gawain lay, her eyes swept over the wound on his head.

"He is a man and a warrior as such he is too stubborn and pig headed to be trusted with his own health; your mistake could have cost him dearly if it had not been caught. You will return to the hall were you will fetch and carry for anyone who asks, you are not to administer care to _anyone_ and when we are through this crisis your employment in this castle will be ended. Now shoo," Mistress Farrow flicked her fingers in dismissal of the girl who promptly fled the room.

"Thank you, madam." Aiya said.

"Do not think this means I won't be watching you. I will have more supplies fetched for you, once you have done with Sir Gawain send him out and I will present you with a new patient." She looked at the Knights chuckling figure. "Lie still boy!"

Aiya watched her retreating figure. "I want to be her when I grow up," she said awestruck.

"A much prettier version," he flashed a charm filled grin.

"Do shut up or I'll make these stitches hurt more than is strictly necessary," she promised.

The multitude of injured villagers and soldiers barely seemed to diminish as the night went on and Aiya's heart sank every time she opened her door to see a quiet desolate child, a newly made widow or a now childless man. In between tending the endless tide of patients she would spend a few moments at Tristan's bedside monitoring his fever and talking to him softly. As the hours passed the injuries she saw became less severe and it became harder to force feed the bitter fever stemming tea and endless cups of water to Tristan, his thrashing and muttering became weaker and less frequent and as the dawn arrived his fever rose. She stopped taking patients and pushed her pallet up against his so that she could dose him up with tea and rich meaty broth between short naps.

When the rain started at around noon Tristan stopped taking any liquid, Aiya crouched by his side and pressed a hand to his brow, he burned. The ointment covered bandage she had wrapped around his torso only an hour ago was soaked with sweat as were the sheets and blankets surrounding him. She called for Mistress Farrow.

"I'm afraid all we can do is wait, change his bandages more regularly, and be vigilant against infection in any of the wounds, also, let's let a little air into the room," she showed Aiya how to massage his throat in order to force him to swallow the tea. "These things never take long, we'll know by tomorrow whether or not he'll live. I'll make sure you're not disturbed, it won't do for you to be crowded by worrisome men while you work."

She left Aiya kneeling by his bedside, tears streaming down her gaunt pale face. For hours she changed sheets and bandages, she cleaned wounds and applied lotions, she force fed teas and any herbal remedies she could think of, she flung open the windows to allow fresh air to sweep into the boiling stuffy room. She paused only to sip at broth and nibble at a little bread before returning to Tristan's side where she constantly mopped his damp brow and chest. Occasionally he would call out in his mother tongue though she knew not what he was saying; she had on occasion recognised her own name.

As dusk once again approached she fell into a fitful sleep, one arm flung over his body as if to reassure herself that he would not fade away while she was unconscious, her dreams were filled with the dead. Her father, mother and uncles. They would whisper sweet words and lullabies. Her mother would tell her stories of Sir Elias who slayed the dragon and of the gods who roamed among mortals. Her father would tell her the history of their great all conquering nation. And her uncle would talk to her of the great minds which populated their land; who would lead them to a bright future for all. She woke briefly as the sun set, the rain had worsened and lighting crackled across the sky.

Her next dream was different; it was sharper, and brighter. It felt real; she touched and smelled and heard. She wore a handsome well fitted gown of midnight blue, on her left hand was a small thin gold band, she turned her hand and stared at the puckered scar that ran up the inside of her arm. She gasped as her belly rippled, pressing her hand to her stomach she was shocked to find it bulging, there was another ripple and she realised that it came from inside her. A large warm hand slid gently around her waist to rest on the one she had placed over her belly, she smiled and turned. A loud bang dropped her into thin air.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

Aiya gasped and clutched her chest as if to contain her thumping heart. "Mari?" she panted.

"Ria and I have been helping with the washing and such, only we finished it all and we heard people talking about you saving people's lives and how Sir Tristan was on deaths door and I thought that you'd been in here so long I should bring food and stuff..."

"Mari, please be quiet," Aiya begged as her head protested at being woken after so little sleep and so much work.

"Sorry," Mari whispered as she looked over the Knight's sleeping form, her lower lip began to wobble as she took in the multitude of bandages and bruises. Real tears sprung to her eyes as soon as she looked at Aiya; her eyes were red rimmed from tears and blood shot from lack of sleep, her skin was pale and sallow, her eyes sunken and dark, her thick hair had sprung loose from the complicated knotted plait and tendrils curled around her face.

"Please don't cry Mari. I'm so tired and there's so much to do, we can all cry when it's over, I promise." She murmured as the young girl knelt next to her. Mari nodded and pulled a corked bottle from the large basket in her grasp.

"Lemon and barley water," she said softly as Aiya drank deeply from the bottle with a grateful moan, she 'hmmd' as the flavour washed across her dry sleep filled mouth. Mari handed her soft bread wrapped around fresh cut cheese and thick flavoursome ham, she ate three of the glorious things as well as an apple before her hunger was sated.

"Thank you love," as Mari tidied up their mess Aiya busied herself peeling away the sticky sheets and blankets. "Help me turn him slightly so we can change all these."

They worked quickly and quietly together, Aiya was proud to see her little sister behaving to calmly and maturely. She was competent and quick; not shying away from the sticky messy task but throwing herself into it.

"Where is Ria?" she asked.

"Mistress Farrow asked her to stitch the smaller wounds since she's got such steady hands and all the big scary wounds have been dealt with," Mari explained as she swept the floor, put fresh water to boil and brought Aiya clean rags for Tristan.

"My god, it took them this long to get to the small wounds?" Aiya breathed as she settled Tristan back into clean sheets.

"It's terrifying, they hit three whole villages, there were soldiers from two outposts there and they couldn't even stop them." Mari whimpered.

"There must be hundreds of them, where will they sleep? How will we feed them?" Aiya wondered aloud.

"Arthur and the Knights couldn't even kill all the bandits," Mari told her.

"They will, don't you worry about that. It's getting late, I want you to find Ria and go to our quarters, and you should eat and bathe and sleep. We'll need all the help we can get tomorrow, you'll need to be fresh for the long days ahead." Aiya told her sister.

"Aren't you coming?" Mari asked.

"No, I can't leave until I know he's out of danger." Aiya said softly her gaze returning to Tristan's battered form. "No arguments Mari, I'm too tired for all that, go please." She heard the girl slip softly out of the room.

She knelt and swiped a soft hand over his forehead, the fever had not abated and even in the dull candle lit room it was easy to see how his complexion had paled. "There's so much left to be done here, you'd be a coward to leave Arthur to do it all by himself." She whispered fiercely to the unconscious man.


	10. Chapter 10

**Hi guys! Back with a brand new chapter hot on the heels of the last two! It's my way of putting off the inevitable Uni work. **

**Thank you again to all my lovely reviewers, you guys have been so encouraging. I am sensing a split between Team Dagonet and Team Tristan, though i shant tell you which camp i'm in as it will probably ruin the story:)**

**Hopefully this chapter starts to develope a little more depth, this isn't just a straight forward romance and Aiya isn't perfect so bear with her if you think things aren't going exactly how you want them too, hehe. **

**I'm hoping for a whopping 10 reviews for this chapter as it was so difficult to write, no pressure though guys :)**

**Enjoy xxx**

**Chapter 10: 'Joy cometh in the morning'**

She was warm, too warm, and heavy. Her chest felt so tight, she smelled sweat but in her dream there were flowers, why did the flowers smell so much like blood? It wasn't right, she frowned, she should fix it. But these flowers don't grow in cold harsh Briton and her mother isn't that young or even that alive, time to wake up, but why? Why wake when the dream is so lovely? Why ever wake at all?

Tristan. She is needed.

"Tristan," gasping and panting. Aiya knows she shouldn't still be weighed down since she's woken herself up and she's staring at the beams and rafters of the healing room.

"Little mouse," the voice rumbles hotly against her ear. She skitters sideways onto the cold hard floor out from underneath the heavy blankets and scarred muscled arm.

"Gods," she gasps as she looks into the clear black eyes that hours ago were muddled and hazy. "You're alive."

His pain filled face pulls into a taught smirk, she crawls back to his bedside. "Disappointed little mouse?" she hears the cracked familiar voice and at once bursts into uncontrollable sobs.

Through a thick curtain of hot tears she reaches blindly and finds a warm bare shoulder, free of injury, she grips tightly as she listens to the sound of deep normal breathing and feels the hot live skin. "I...Oh Gods..." she sobs and whimpers some more. She gets a waft of blood as a large rough hands cradles her face.

"Silly chit," he growls, it does nothing to stop her cries, and she reaches up with her free arm to hold his hand to her face. She gives into the relief and sheer bloody exhaustion as she turns her head slightly to press a kiss to his palm. She mistakes his gasp for one of pain and drops the hand, reaching forward to him she forces her eyes to clear of tears.

"Did I hurt you?"Her eyes flicker from his face to his bandages. "What do you need?" she rises to fetch tea but is pulled sharply down by his solid grasp on her rolled up sleeve.

"You dare try to feed me anymore of that cursed tea and I'll drown you in it," he growls. She laughs softly, barely believing that he's there and he's still the same terrifying dark man. "How long was I out?"

"Four days, well three nights and four days really," She reaches for the cool damp cloth and wipes the sweat from his furrowed forehead as she has been doing for past ninety odd hours. "Most gave you up for dead yesterday, the fever grew so bad and you were seeing ghosts, I couldn't get you to keep down a thing. I thought I would go mad, another day in this room watching you die." She swiped away more hot tears and dipped the rag in the cold water once again.

He grasped her wrist tightly before she could put the damp rag back on his head. "That was you? Talking to me?" she nodded and he released her wrist. "And you burned my belly shut?"

"Actually Bors did the burning but I told him to, I've been in charge of your care from day one, changing every bandage, sewing every cut." She smiled shakily at him. "Arthur said he didn't trust anyone else not to kill you in your sleep."

Tristan shared a smile at her joke, she stared openly at him. "Like what you see, pretty?" he drawled, his voice was dry and croaky but still oh so familiar.

"I've never seen you smile before," she marvelled. "It suits you." He snorted derisively and she stood.

"Where do you think you're going?" he demanded, she froze, one hand on the door handle.

"I told his majesty that I would alert him as soon as your condition changed." She did not look at him as she slipped out of the room. Leaning against the closed door she took a moment to breathe and thank whatever gods might be out there for bringing him back to her. She couldn't imagine having to tell the King that his friend was dead.

"Miss Boon? Is all well? He hasn't-"

"No!" she hurriedly smiled at Mistress Farrow. "He's awake and he's well."

"God be praised," Mistress Farrow sighed in relief. "You must hurry and tell the king, I will watch over Sir Tristan."

"Of course," Aiya hurried down the long room past the rows of silent injured.

"Miss Boon?" Aiya turned to look at the older woman. "Well done."

Her exhaustion slowed her pace and made every flight of stairs an achy chore, by the time she reached the war room where the King was assembled with his Knights and Barons she was trembling and panting, she curtseyed to the guards who rapped on the heavy doors for her.

"Enter!" Was the King's command.

She slipped into the room, her eyes were immediately drawn to Dagonet's large figure, he rose from his chair and frowned as he took in her dishevelled appearance. "Tristan?" the King's voice was filled with apprehension.

"He is awake and aware of all that has passed your majesty," the glad cries of the Knights and barons assembled assaulted her ears. "The fever is gone and his wounds are healing well. I believe he is beyond danger."

The King stepped forward and clasped bother her hands between his. "It is you who saved him, we are most grateful," He said solemnly.

She dropped her gaze and stepped back. "I merely did as I was told, your majesty. He is fit for visitors if you wish," She curtseyed, her knees wobbled when she attempted to straighten and then flat out refused to hold her weight. She went down, her eyes closed, she did not feel herself land.

She woke in the dark, in a bed, her hands felt the familiar worn woven blanket. She was in her own quarters, in her own bed. Her eyes registered soft candle light and slow heavy breathing, she turned her head and smiled, Dagonet had squeezed his large bulk into one of their small dining chairs. It was pulled as close to her bed as could be.

"Dagonet," she whispered softly. She jumped as he jerked awake, eyes flying to her.

"Aiya," he breathed leaning forward to place a hand against her cheek. "How do you feel?"

She smiled and nodded at his arm, encased in a crisp white sling. "I should be asking you, are you in much pain?" she demanded, pushing herself up to sit against the wall.

"You are the one who's been unconscious these past twelve hours," he said moving from the chair to the side of her bed. "I so looked forward to the sight of you when I returned and then four days passed before I could set eyes on you, I did not like finding you in such a state."

She smiled. "Yes, I do rather look half dead." She laughed softly.

"It is no joke, sweetheart. You made yourself ill with your vigil at Tristan's bedside, though I am immensely grateful for you dedication, I know not how I would have born the loss of my friend." She gasped as bent low to press a soft lingering kiss to her lips.

"How fares Sir Tristan?" she whispered against his mouth.

"Let us not talk of him," he said peppering her mouth with more delicate kisses as if he were afraid she might break.

"Mmmm," she pushed him gently away. "Please Dagonet; I must know how he is."

He groaned in frustration. "Awake and grumpy, swearing at the nurses and demanding to be released from the bed rest Mistress Farrow has imposed on him." Dagonet smiled ruefully.

"So all is well," she giggled. "And the refugees? How many are there? How fares the King?"

"The refugees number almost one hundred, and the dead are over two dozen, the injured are even more. The local Barons have offered to take some and the church will house the orphans, make shift camps have erected around the walls of the keep to house the rest. Arthur's hair grows greyer by the hour." Dagonet sighed, she noted the deep lines surrounding his eyes, using her arms she shifted herself as close to the wall as possible before tugging his large frame to lie next to her.

"Sleep a while more, we have a few hours before dawn and then chaos will reign again," she said softly as she lay next to him, one arm flung over is torso to keep him down.

"You must know how the thought of you sustained me," He whispered as she bent over him to blow out the candle at her bedside.

He used his good arm to pull her down against his chest before sliding his hand up into her hair, they both groaned as their lips and tongues met. It was a more desperate version of their first kiss and she squirmed in his hold at the sensations that raced through her body. He slid his injured arm from the sling with a growl so that he might anchor her tightly to his chest. Goosebumps rippled across her flesh as his hands slid from her hair to her hips pulling her down and squeezing the flesh of her rump, she gasped and reached her arms up to encase his wide shoulders. He bit and nibbled at her lips before tilting her head to the side so that he might suckle at the soft milky skin of her neck and shoulder.

"_Dagonet_," the wanton pleading tone of her voice shocked her almost as much as Dagonet's delighted growl at the way she moaned his name.

"Aye," he rolled her gently onto her back following her form with his, she squirmed at the hot heavy pressure of his weight on her. It took a few moments to swallow the fear of being crushed before she revelled in the feel of him. "_My_ Aiya, _my _girl."

She shivered at the rasping possessive words, his hot breath huffed over her lips before he swallowed her mewls, sliding his full lips over hers caressing and demanded entrance. Tongue and teeth clashing, fighting for dominance, one large hand fisted in her hair as the other slid up from her hips to caress her belly and then up again to cup a soft breast. Her mewls rose in pitch as she arched her body up against him, he massaged the clothed mound lovingly, thumb caressing its peak. Sensations she could never have imagined in her wildest dreams flowed through her body, clouding her mind with lust and raging desire, her hand curled around his biceps and she gripped him to her. Legs spreading and lifting to cradle him, separated by his breaches her bed sheets and her multitude of skirts but still not enough to disguise the hot hardness of him. His mouth blazed a hot trail down her jaw as the hand in her hair tugged at the leather thongs which laced the front of her dress tightly over her breasts. Panic joined her desire, memories of harsh demanding hands and muttered curses flooded her mind.

"No," she pushed at his giant form. "Stop!"

At the second cry he was up and away, levering himself off the bed and pressing back against the wall next to her bed, she panted as she took stock of the crumpled mess of bed sheets and her dishevelled gown. Flinging the blankets from her she swung her legs over the bed and stared up at flushed man. His gaze caught hers.

"I'm sorry...I don't know what I-I...I'm sorry," Shame flooded her face and she dropped her gaze to her clasped trembling hands.

She heard him move to crouch in front of her. "Look at me," she did. "I should have controlled myself better, believe me when I say I have never not been master of my own desires until now."

"I shouldn't have been so-"

"No," he growled. "You are a virtuous girl, I know that, I should not have taken advantage of your inexperience."

She hissed in displeasure and stood. "I am no bumbling country girl Dagonet, I knew your intent and I encouraged it, if I hadn't...remembered, then I would not have stopped you from going further." She fumed.

"Remembered?" he stepped into her space. "Who has touched you like this? Who has hurt you?" he demanded.

"No one you great oaf, so calm yourself! I'm no child who needs protection," she groused at him, bending to straighten her bed and fluff the crumpled pillow.

She yelped when he turned her to face him. "You think I don't know you're no girl? Gods woman you know not how you tempt men with your figure!" he growled at her.

"Well I'm sorry! I'm sorry for tempting anyone; I didn't do it on purpose! I didn't ask for all this attention and I don't want it!" Angry tears sprang to her eyes and she sniffed them away.

"You don't want me?" he asked softly.

"Of course I do, I don't go around kissing just anyone. But I can't Dagonet, I'm not made for this, I can't hop in and out of men's beds without a care in the world like the rest of the girls around here." She explained.

"You think I would ask that of you? To warm my bed only when convenient?" He asked, eyes filled with hurt at her accusation.

"No, but we were about to end up in that situation, I haven't any time for canoodling Dagonet." She said as dismissively as she could manage despite the ache in her heart.

"Aiya, I would be with you and only you," he swore softly, following her around the room as she tidied her home to keep from flinging herself into his arms once again.

"Fealty doesn't matter to me Dagonet, I know the nature of man and you Knights are famous for your way with the women of the keep-"

"You're not hearing me!" He boomed dragging her around to face him.

"So speak plainly Sir Knight or leave me in peace," she hissed aware that prying ears could be pressed against the door at any moment.

"I want you and only you, I want a mother for my son and I want a wife who will give me more." He searched her eyes desperately for a reaction.

_A wife...he wanted her to marry him... she saw flashes of herself in the blue gown, she felt the rippling of her stomach, the familiar weight of the gold band around her finger. Was it his hand resting over hers? And then she saw a contract, dating back years, written in Latin. It named the husband of the eldest daughter of Aelius as master of her and of the estate of Titus Aelius which she would inherit. It named him Lord of lands Roman and Briton and gave him sole access to all bonds, contracts and vaults in the Aelius name. It game him ownership over the young Aelius girls and their dowries. It gave him everything._

_It named her and it would identify her and they would come; the Romans would come for the illegal manuscripts she had so hastily hidden on their arrival in this cold brutish land. They would come for the banned words and ideas, to burn the blasphemy. They would not cede to Arturius' authority. She would pay for her uncle's crimes and if she survived she would hold the key to untold fortune for the man who bound her in wedlock. She could not afford the notoriety of being wife to a Sarmation Knight. _

"Y-You can't always have everything you want." She said softly, her heart lurched as she saw the hope fade from his eyes. She wanted to throw her arms around his neck and scream 'Yes!' as the top of her lungs but she listened to the small voice that whispered '_trust no one'_ and even more worryingly the one that said '_but...Tristan...what about Tristan?_'

"You have no desire to marry?" he asked brokenly.

She stepped backwards out of his grasp. "I have no need of a husband," she turned and looked to the bare walls of the small room. "And I have no want of one."

"Very well," she heard him open the door. "It will be as you wish."

She waited for his heavy footsteps to fade before sitting at the small dinner table and crying into her folded arms.

**Reviews = Motivation. Sorry for bitch slapping you guys around with evil chappy endings but i do love the "WTF just went down? Did she just? Oh no she didn't!" messages that i get. Hehe. xxxx**


	11. Chapter 11

**Hi guys! Wow! You are all awesome! I got an insane amount of reviews for the last chapter, i was sooooo happy! Everyone has very strong opinions and i absolutely love that.**

**The Team Dag VS Team Tristan war rages nicely. *cackles***

**This chapter isn't very action packed but i'm trying to flesh out thes tory a little; give all my characters some more depth and i hope i succeeded. The next update should come in a week or so, i do have a job and college unfortunately this can't be my priority but i love writing this story so much that sometimes i can't help but put it before other work. :)**

**Please keep the reviews coming; they always cheer me up and i love hearing from all my regulars. Let's break the one hundred barrier guys. xx**

**Chapter 11:_ However long the night, the dawn will break._**

She lifted her head when she heard the dawn chorus, she stood and re dressed in fresh clothing, she washed her face and twisted her hair into a complicated knot at the base of her neck, she fetched an apple from the pantry and nibbled it in silence, she pulled on her boots and stood facing the door to the outside world. And only then did she think of Dagonet. It still hurt, she still wanted to cry, and to scream, and to go to him. She stepped into the corridor, it was cold and damp, the bare arches on the hallway revealed the unceasing rain which still pelted the massive grey building.

"Miss Boon?" she turned to a see a slip of a girl hopping from one foot to the other.

"Yes?"

"Mistress Farrow asked you to join her in the healer's wing if you feel able," the girl mumbled quickly.

"I'll be there momentarily," the girl scurried away. "Wait! Do you know the whereabouts of the young Boon girls? They're usually seamstresses for-"

"Oh aye Miss, they await you with Mistress Farrow," the girl scampered away before Aiya could thank her.

She hurried down the familiar corridors through the familiar doors into the chaos of sickness that she had known would await her. All the beds were still filled, the dead had been removed and the sick had occupied their spaces, pallets had been thrown down onto the floor to accommodate the vast numbers and more maids and serving men had been drafted in to help. The windows had been thrown open to drain away the smells of blood and sickness and the large fires roared to combat any drafts that might dare to enter the room. There was less weeping and groaning than there had been yesterday, the most injured were heavily sedated with opiates and the rest slept naturally. She could smell the remnants of the hearty breakfast they had been served, full bellies always made for sleepy patients. The relatives of those injured had been removed from the hall and anarchy no longer ruled.

"Miss Boon," the old plump matron watched her hawkishly from across the room, her sisters stood either side of the formidable woman wearing the white cotton headscarves which identified them as nursing assistants. Pride warmed her heart as she approached and curtseyed. "You are recovered?"

"Aye, Mistress." A nod of the head.

"Good, there is much to be done, your siblings have proved useful and well educated, and I will retain their services until these beds are empty." Aiya nodded in acknowledgement of the veiled compliment she had been paid. "Come." They all followed her to the end of the long row of beds.

'_Are you alright?'_ Ria mouthed at her silently.

She nodded and turned her attention to Mistress Farrow. "From here until the first hearth are our most serious patients, most are soldiers and their injuries are self evident, they must receive hourly doses of the fever abating tea and their bandages must be changed regularly. The further along we go the less serious the injury; at the far end of the room you need only attend them when they call for you and only if there is no one else around to do so. But for the most part I would prefer the three of you to stay at this end of the room."

"Aye, Mistress." Her sisters followed suit.

"Miss Boon, Sir Tristan remains in the room you left him in yesterday. He must be monitored on a semi-regular basis." Aiya nodded her understanding and moved away to fetch a crisp white cloth to tie over her hair just as her sisters had done.

"Might I ask where Sir Dagonet is today?" Aiya jolted as she heard Ria ask Mistress Farrow.

"You may, all the Knights but Sir Tristan are in the War Room with his Majesty and the Barons. To work, I will tolerate no time wasting or silly gossip." Her sisters chorused their agreement.

"Are you truly alright?" Ria asked softly. She turned and smiled at her sister.

"I'm just a little tired, it's nothing a few nights of unbroken sleep won't fix." She assured her sister, she watched Mari as she flitted about ladling tea into cups and filling trays so that she might trail her sisters with the supplies they would need. "She seems older."

"Mmmm," Ria agreed as she too watched their sister. "She likes having all the responsibility, it makes her feel important. And I don't believe for a second that you're merely tired but your problems are your own and I trust that if you ever needed my help you would seek it out."

Aiya laughed softly. "Our uncle would always say that you are an old soul in a young body," she wished he was here now to tell her what to do.

"We all miss him Aiya, it's not just you who bares our burden." Ria reminded her softly, she swept gracefully to the side of an injured soldier's bed and bent low to listen to his groaning pain filled words.

"If only that were true," she whispered to herself. How would she stop Ria or Mari if they found a man they too adored and wished to marry? God forbid he be wealthy or noble, she prayed they fell in love with stable boys or blacksmiths, at least then she would have a chance at keeping them hidden.

* * *

"Are you my treat for being a good boy?" The lazy drawl sent subtle shivers down her spine.

"But have you really been good?"She asked. He shrugged and conceded her point, he still lay on the pallet she had spread across the floor days ago, seeing her gaze Tristan smoothed his hand over the other bed she had pushed up next to his.

"And to think, when I get you in bed with me I'm unconscious the whole time, such a waste." He murmured, eyes flashing her face, satisfaction deepening as he saw the noticeable flush spreads across her cheeks.

"You shouldn't have let a peasant stick you in the gut with a rusty knife then should you," she smiled as he scowled over her mocking tone. "Lift your arms and sit forward pleases."

She smoothed her hands of the tight binding that encased his torso from his hips to just below his pectorals, finding the tucked end of the bandage she pulled it out and carefully unwound it from his chest. She then peeled away the rectangular strip of material which covered the gash on his stomach, pressing him back to lie flat she studied the healing burn, it was gaudy, ugly and would never fade. But it was a clean burn and showed no sign of redness or inflammation beyond the normal, she smelled no infection.

"You did well," she was shocked at his words. "Clever little mouse."

"You have someone powerful on your side, there are not many men who would have survived such a fever, at least not that I have seen." She murmured as she smooch sticky herbal salve over the wound with her fingers, the muscles under hand rippled in discomfort but he made not a sound.

"We Sarmation men are built of sterner stuff then say your average _Roman_," she flinched and she saw him notice it.

"Not even lying in your sickbed do you cease to torment me Tristan and I must tell you that I am in entirely the wrong mood for it today," she caught and held his gaze. "Perhaps you could wait a little while before your next insult, hmm?" she suggested softly as she pulled him forward in order to re-wrap his abdomen.

His hand came up to tug on one of the curled locks of dark hair that had escaped her head scarf. "No insult, pretty. Merely an observation." He murmured, lying back down when she was done with the smallest of uncomfortable grunts. "Why so sad today?"

She glared at him as she gathered up the discarded bandages from the floor by his make shift bed. "Who says I'm sad?" she huffed.

"I have eyes and you are no good at masks," he watched her with his hawk's eyes.

"Nobody can be happy all the time, especially when surrounded with such death," she gestured to the multitude lying beyond the walls of the room.

"That is a different kind of shadow, I know it well, and you do not have it." He observed growing more and more delighted with her irritation.

"You think you know so much; your only talent is killing, and from what I hear it's your only pleasure too." She hissed at him.

He sat up in his bed. "Not my _only_ pleasure, little flower." He growled raking his eyes across her body.

She smiled seeing that she had angered him. "You are a man; you crave blood and sex, your life has been killing on command and it has destroyed whatever soul you may have had. I am nothing like you so do not pretend to know me." She informed him, she propped her basket full of bloody rags on her hip and sauntered from the room.

She heard his raw of rage and the clay cup filled with water water she had left him smashed against the closed door behind her. She surveyed the hall; the sun was setting on another day of dealing with the aftermath of this recent crisis, her charges were fed, bathed and sleeping. Many had been well enough to leave her care and return to their families. She had almost a dozen empty beds and there had been no more deaths this day, Farrow had dismissed her sisters several hours ago but Aiya had chosen to remain. She knew if she was left alone with her thoughts too long they would return the heartbroken knight she longed to see.

"You should return to your sisters," Mistress Farrow suggested, for a large woman she was very good as sneaking up on people.

"There is much to do here; if I went I would simply worry about the work I had left behind." She replied, settling herself down on a stool by the fire with a basket full of torn but clean garments that needed repairing so that they may be distributed amongst the refugees.

"An admirable sentiment but none of us will rest easy for a long while; we should take our reprieves where we can." Farrow said as she brought over another stool and joined Aiya in the tedious work of darning rent garments.

"Leaving would be no reprieve, in truth I find it more peaceful here than in my chambers, squabbling girls are difficult to ignore when you all live in the same room." She pointed out.

Mistress Farrow chuckled. "I remember as much from raising my own daughters," she said fondly.

Aiya's gaze went to the older woman's ring-less fingers. "I was not aware you have a family," she said.

"I had a family, my husband and children have been dead for many years, but a mother never forgets these things." She said, her stern unforgiving tone did not ease yet Aiya saw in her face the heartfelt memories.

"I am sorry for your loss," she said softly, hissing when her distraction resulted in a needle to the finger.

"I suppose you are wondering what happened to them," Mistress Farrow noted.

"It is not for me to wonder such things, Mistress." She said demurely. But in truth she was eager to know.

"I feel after the past few days that we have been able to reach an understanding of sorts, as such it would be much more convenient for you to call me by my given name: Nora," The older women acknowledged Aiya's nod of acceptance before returning her gaze to her needle and thread. "I had three sons and three daughters in that order, I was married very young and all my children followed in quick succession. My eldest two sons were soldiers and twins, they both perished in the same battle days after their eighteenth birthday. My third son died in infancy and then came my daughters. Two fell to the sweating sickness in their sixteenth and nineteenth year and the last died in childbirth, taking the babe with her. That was four years ago now."

"And what of your husband?" Aiya had been absorbed by Nora's pain from the moment she opened her mouth.

"Badon Hill, it was for the best, he had been a ghost of a man after the loss of his babes," She confessed with a tight smile. "I am not a hard woman for naught Aiyana, life is a series of difficult lessons that must be learned, you have learned many of those and you have done so quickly. As such you now have my respect; it would, however, take little for you to lose it again." She warned.

"I was juvenile in my resistance, your respect means much to me and I would not lose it for anything," she assured the older woman. The rest of the night passed in companionable silence as Aiyana pondered the strength of such a woman to continue long after all around her are dead and Fianora Farrow pondered the origins of the strange girl sat opposite her.

* * *

The whole castle was the quietist it had been in the time since the refugees had flooded in; many of the families had, today, been moved to the outer villages and a few taken into paid services in the houses of the local nobility. There were, however, still dozens of sick injured and homeless to deal with. Aiya had caught brief glimpses of the King and several of the Knights but not of Sir Dagonet. He had been accurate in his description of Arthur; he looked far older than his years, he appeared if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders and in a way he did. Aiya did not for a moment envy him the task of ruling a nation that had for centuries been divided by factionalism and famine.

She paused a moment in one of the long hallways lined with large arched openings to gaze into the courtyard down below. A few stray chickens and the occasional cat meandered across the cobbles, a stable boy would hurry past with a bale of hay or a bucket of water, servants would dash through carrying clothing or food. She could hear the soft hooting of the owls which nested in the highest towers and the occasional burst of laughter from the soldier's barracks.

The night sky was clear of clouds, she smiled as she picked out her favourite constellations, her breath puffing out in little clouds before her as she named them in her native tongue. She jumped as a rush of light and laughter startled her, she hid her body in the shadow of an arch as she watched three large, half drunk soldiers totter across the yard laughing and jostling each other. For a moment her heart stopped as the tallest and broadest of the men helped his fellows to stand straight; for a moment she had seen Dagonet's face on the man. A mere trick of the darkness.

"_Quod cito acquiritur cito perit_," She sighed staring at the retreating figures. _(What is quickly gained is quickly lost.)_

"_Suspiria de profundis_," she gasped at the deep rumbling reply. King Arthur was a mere two paces behind her, he watched her intently. She had not even heard him approach. (_Sighs from the depths.)_

"Your Majesty," she curtseyed swiftly, keeping her eyes on his troubled face.

He moved to stand next to her, gazing at the stars she had moments ago been naming aloud in her Roman tongue. Had he heard her?

"I find these days the darkest of my reign," he confessed, tight deep lines around his green eyes. "My wife counsels me that these tests were sent to make a stronger King, my Nobles counsel that I should raise and army to cleanse the land of these rebels, and my dear Knights. Well, they are not as they once were. Tristan is bed bound and Dagonet has no heart for war or for anything else. I find myself very much alone."

"If I could have prevented that pain I would, your majesty." He needed not ask who she was talking about; Dagonet's heartbreak would have been evident to his brothers.

"_Si vis amari ama_," he told her with a bitter smile. (_If you want to be loved, love.)_

"I have no desire for love," she snapped gripping tightly at the rough stone of the arch.

"But you have need of it," he said softly.

"Forgive my forwardness, but Dagonet does not need you to speak for him in these matters, he asked and I gave him his answer now we shall both move forward. It may take him a little time but he has a son, he has his brothers and one day he will have a wife. And when that day comes he will not think of me again." Tears pricked her eyes as she realized the truth in her own words, one day the large Knight would forget her entirely, he would have a family and she would be alone. She would think of him and he...he would not think of her.

"You mourn the loss of him just as he mourns the loss of you," he observed.

"There was no loss!" she raged. "There was no love! There was nothing! He did not know me and I did not know him, he fell in love with an image, an idea of what I could be for him and he was wrong to do so! I cannot be the wife he desires, I am not that woman, and I can never be that woman!" The tears she had held back slipped down her flushed cheeks, her finger nails dug deep into the meat of her palm as she stopped more from falling.

His eyes looked as if he felt her pain, he moved to embrace her but she turned instead to stare out once again at the night sky. "_Faber est quisque fortunae suae,_" he whispered softly as he placed a warm hand on her shoulder. (_Every man is architect of his own fortune)_

"But not every woman," she whispered back. "Not any woman."

"Forgive me, my intention was not to hurt you." The heavy hand squeezed her shoulder and then slid away.

"You heard me, when I watched the stars." She said.

"Aye," he replied.

"And you hear the accent in my words just as I hear it in yours," she continued.

"Aye," he affirmed.

She finally gained the courage to face him; his face held only kindness and understanding. "Yet you do not actively seek to expose me," she accused.

"Perhaps there is nothing to expose, perhaps you are just another Roman left behind when the Empire fled these lands," he replied.

"You know that is not true," her tone grew desperate as she sought to understand his logic.

"I do," he said with a soft smile. "I know words alone will not convince you that you can trust me, time and experience will do that."

"Your Majesty, you have my trust, and my loyalty." She assured him realising that both were true.

"Then I am a lucky man for it is clear that you do not give that trust easily," His gaze was piercing and she could not tear her eyes away from him. "But I would ask the same of you, Aiyana. Give me your trust and I will not betray it."

Images flashed through her mind; her sisters happy, carefree and settled in King Arthur's fort, herself in the blue dress with the bulging belly and bright gold wedding band, but also Roman spies, and Roman inquisitors, and worst of all Roman dungeons. "If I could I would lay bare all to you, your majesty," her tone pleaded with him to accept her answer.

"But you cannot," he concluded with a heavy sigh.

"Aye," she replied softly.

"This offer will stand," He caught her gaze and held it. "Always."

**Yeah yeah, i know, i'm yanking ur chain on this whole backstory thing. But remember guys tat is the whole point of backstory. If she just turned up and blurted out every little secret she had there wouldn't be much of a plot. Hope y'all enjoyed. Please feed the author :)**


	12. Chapter 12

Hi guys back with a lengthy and unexpected update! I was so pleased with all the reviews, you guys are amazing, and please keep them coming! It's hard to write fic in a category no one really reads anymore:)

Also **a quick WARNING! THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS VERY STRONG LANGUAGE AND GRAPHIC VOILENCE! **I try to be as true to the times as i can and so the voilence and language are going to be a little bloody and barbaric.

This chapter is a little shocking but i think drama sucks in the reviews and i could do with a little positive encouragement at the moment :)

**Chapter 12: Songbird**

"_Run Mistress! Go!" The voice is definitely male, but choked, choking, just as she is. Thick clawing, black smoke, screaming. Blood filled screams, gurgling and dying. She slams her body against the door, trying desperately to push it open, but it's hard with her arm still in the sling. Still healing, still repairing, after the last attack. Why did they keep coming? What had she done? A girl, just girls, they weren't a threat! The door gives and she tumbles through, up and running, harder and faster. Calling out for her sisters. For her Uncle. For her maid. Stepping over bodies. So many bodies._

"_Please no! Please!" Her heart stops, as do her feet, clutching a pillar she peers the hazy smog. The hooded Sicarii pulls the woman to her knees, hand fisted in her long brown locks._

"_Where are the girls, bitch? Where are the heirs? Give them to me and I will spare you."The voice could be any roman man, deep gravelly, and filled with disgust. She shivers and slinks further behind the pillar, one eye still on the man._

"_Y-you lie...y-you killer—you bastard! They are worth a million of y-you, o-of me, I-I will die for them... All here will die for them..." She sobs as he drags her higher, pushing and clawing at the hand fisted in her hair._

"_You speak the truth little whore, they are worth far more than a million darkie slave bitches like you, the whole of Rome will burn, the whole of Europa, and I will pluck them out of the ashes." A sicai slipped from his sleeve into his free hand, he dragged the sharp silver blade down her coffee coloured cheek, a long bloody welt appeared. Dark liquid stained the neck of her tunic, only then did Aiya see the blood on the slave's thighs, bile rose in her throat. She knew the appetites of men, they were voracious animals hiding behind a thin veneer of civility, pillagers. Monsters. She would never put herself in their hands. Never._

"_I will make you rich beyond your wildest dreams, a mere fraction of their wealth will make you a queen," He cooed. Caressing the top of her breast with his blade. "Or I could spend days cutting away the flesh from your limbs, my men will have every part of you from dawn until dusk, I will find everyone you have ever loved. Every darkie bastard you have born, every man you have loved, your brethren. I will do the same to them."_

_She whimpered and her gaze flashed to the pillar, Aiya whimpered, Aisha. That was the slave's name: Aisha. She would sing to Mari when the night terrors would seize her. She would hold Ria when the summer fever swamped her; cooing and rocking until she slept. She would tell Aiya stories of Jerusalem and of the Moslem faith. Something hardened in the woman's eyes, her hands flashed up and seized the blade in the assassin's hand and she thrust it upwards, slicing the thick heavy vein at the side of her own neck. Tears poured down Aiya's soot stained face._

"_Bitch! God damned whore!" The Sicarii threw the thrashing dying woman to the floor. _

"_The cunt got the better of you Cassius," An oily voice chuckled in dark amusement._

"_I will flay the skin from your puny cock you Moslem bastard," the hood was pushed back and Aiya gaped at the man before her, his skin was tanned and his head shaved. He turned and she stuffed her hand in her mouth to muffle her alarm, the skin on the left side of his face from his temple to his throat was one big, mottled, lumpy, puckered scar. "Any sign of them?"_

"_Not yet, we'll find the little qybah, his lordship will wed and break the wench. He'll fill her belly with brats and we'll be rich men." The dark skinned man stroked his curved violent looking sword as he eyed the dead slave. _

"_Do not fill you head with such heirs, you are a knife for hire, you're lucky I don't put a collar round your neck and have you lick my floors clean." Cassius snapped._

"_Eyreh be afass seder emmak," The Moslem spat on the floor by Cassius' feet._

"_You'll find it hard to put you cock anywhere near my mother, Hashim, unless you like fucking corpses," Cassius cackled. "I merely warn you not to think so big, there are many barriers between our lord and the Aelius wealth, and we may be old mean before this job is done."_

_Hashim grunted unhappily. "He does seem possessed; these little bitches are worth so much?"_

"_The only heirs to Castus' estates, the man owns half of Europe, which should have gone to the Emperor on Castus' death but now it goes to his nieces. The Emperor does not mind but our lord does." Aiya slid entirely behind the pillar._

"_So kill the old man and the girls and have done with it," Hashim grunted._

"_It is all a matter of law, Roman law, you inbred heathen. Castus has most of the Senate in his pocket, he's a reformer and owns land across the entire Empire, including half of Briton. He could buy an army the size of the Emperors and have Rome surrounded by tomorrow if he so wished. He and the Emperor were boys together, Castus has been attempting to change the law so that Caesar's bastard may inherit as his barren wife has provided him no son." She heard the sound of a whetstone running across a blade. _

"_All the while our Lord awaits his brother's death and with Caesar's death dies the reformist's power?" Hashim chuckles. "You see I am not so uneducated. But why the girls?"_

"_The same reason that drives this whole god forsaken empire. Money, power, greed, lust. Get a male heir on them girls, dispatch with the mother, and you're richer than your wildest dreams. With that kind of wealth you could..."_

"_Order an emperor's death?" Hashim suggested. Cassius chuckled darkly. _

"_Master!" Aiya took her chance to shook across the darkened and slip behind one of the massive tapestries hand on wall brackets, unseen by the thin robe clad man scurrying across the room._

"_And?" Cassius barked._

"_M-master they aren't here, the slaves say they have not seen the master of the house in weeks, the young children were taken into the country today and the eldest did not return from her schooling this morning!" Aiya sent up prayer after prayer for the lies the household had spun to protect her family. _

_Cassius swore profusely and Aiya heard vases smash and chairs fly. "He must have known! That cunning old bastard must have known! He sent them to the country estates!" Cassius roared._

"_Then we will scour the country estates," Hashim replied calmly._

"_Idiot!" She heard the harsh thump of fist meeting flesh and Hashim's dull roar. "There are dozens of estates, spread across thousands of miles, from Byzantium to Briton! Do you have the men? Do you have the money? Do you a have a thousand life times in which to search for three children in a sea of people?"_

"_Then what would you suggest my pale faced friend? That we give up, the skin will be flayed from our bodies, our charred remains will be all that is left of our failed mission." As Hashim spoke Aiya sidled out from behind the tapestry, the room was filled with a heady haze of smoke seeping in from the rest of the burning mansion, her tiny frame made no sound as she slipped along the wall of the room. Pausing behind each pillar as the men discussed the severity of their master's certain displeasure over their failure. She paused briefly in the open doorway at the end of the room to imprint their faces in her mind._

_This is what awaits you Aiyana, she told herself, this is what is waiting if you fail. If you stop running, stop hiding, if you trust the wrong person. They will come, like a plague, they will come and devour everything you hold dear in your heart. Just as you lost Mama and Papa, you will lose your uncle, you will use Mari and Ria. There is no place the scarred man and the Moslem will not find you. Do not stop, do not look back. Do not listen to the bells...bells? Wha-?_

"Aiya get up! Get up!"Her left hand flew to clutch her right elbow, no brace, and no bandage. She breathed in smokeless air and looked up at a damp grey ceiling, not cream, no mosaics. No fire. No Blood.

"Wha- What is it?" She grappled at the blankets tugging them off her legs and tumbling off the tiny bed onto unsteady feet. Only then did she hear the tolling of bells, not the ones she'd heard sound as a call to arms, or for a fire. These were different. "What's happened?"

Mari swirled around the room in a haze of giggles. "The Queen is with child! There's going to be a baby Prince! Her bellies all round and swollen and now the healers say there's no danger until the birth, I saw it, I was there sewing hems and the healer came out. The King's face went all happy, it was lovely!" She gushed as Aiya washed the sleep out of her eyes.

"What time is it? Why did you let me sleep so long?" She growled when she looked out the window to see the sun high in the sky.

"It's just passed midday, you've been working all the time forever, Mistress Farrow says that you'll work yourself into an early grave fretting over all the refugees. And most aren't even that sick anymore, it's been weeks and all the Knight's are better and now the King is happy because of the baby, and then everyone will be happy bec-"

"Enough Mari, please." She groaned and clutched her throbbing head. An heir for the kingdom would bring much needed joy and stability, though Aiya could have wrung the neck of the healer who said that the danger had passed, the danger was less as the child grew but it never ceased entirely.

"Ria sent me to fetch you, the healing staff are going to Vanora's to celebrate, Mistress Farrow says that all those not on the work rota must go." Mari chirped happily. "And her majesty gave me gold thread so that I might sew magic songbirds onto a baby blanket for her!"

"The last thing I need is to be drinking," Aiya moaned as Mari helped remove her crinkled grey gown and pull on a tighter fitting blue shift underneath a handsome dark blue woollen gown that the Queen's ladies had donated to her. Aiya frequently returned to her rooms to find that the Queen had sent Mari back from her job sewing with parcels of unwanted gowns and cloaks.

"Sit," Mari ordered, tugging on her elder sister's dark locks when she didn't instantly obey. In no time at all her curls had been piled and pinned into a neat knot at the base of her skull with a few loose tendrils framing her face. "Mistress Farrow also gave Ria permission to attend the celebrations."

"She did what?" Aiya yelped. The thought of her sister in a tavern surrounded by drunk had been hard enough when Ria had decided to work at Vanora's but now she was a maid it was even worse, soldiers prided themselves on tumbling the girls working in the inner sanctum of the castle as they were thought to be of a higher class. Aiya would have to make sure that Ria did not partake in any of the vicious liquids served by Vanora, Ria was usually a virtuous girl but alcohol did strange things to people. She would not trust even herself under the influence never mind her innocent little sister.

Aiya smoothed her royal blue gown with trembling fingers as she eyed the large courtyard which backed onto Vanora's tavern, it was filled with soldiers, maids and healers basking in the sunshine with goblets full of liquor. Laughing, joking and jostling each other. Voluptuous women sprawled across the laps of jovial drunken men. Serving wenches wove their way through the crowds, dodging groping hands and refilling cups and pitchers. The light and sound and smells filled her heart with ice and fear.

"Aiya!" her head snapped up, Lucy, a fellow healing assistant skipped across the courtyard and tugged Aiya out of the shaded alcove she had been standing in. "Come on! We've all been wondering where you got to! Oh you do look better after a little sleep."

Aiya shook her head at the plump bubbly girl's enthusiasm. "I found her!" she called as they dove into the crowd of people in the tavern's courtyard. A massive cheer went up as she was enveloped in enthusiastic drunk hugs by male and female colleagues.

A drink was pressed into her hand. "Go and get that down ye lass!" One of the castle stewards boomed. She took a breath and gulped down the liquid.

"Ack!" she glared at the cup, her throat on fire. Guffaws echoed around her, she grinned as Lucy grasped her hand dragging her deeper into the fray to a small clearing, a drum began to sound a fast beat.

"Dance with me!" Lucy giggled.

"I can't!" she protested, flushing bright red as the soldier's hollered encouragement.

"Either you dance or you drink. Decide," Lucy challenged. Aiya stepped forward and took the other girl's hand, they span, twisted, and moved their feet at a frantic pace for hours. Pausing only to have a quick sip of ale or swap partners, always returning to giggle at each other, rescuing one another from the prying hands of soldiers and hostlers. Aiya was shocked when she looked up and saw the sun had disappeared from the sky, she flicked her hair over her shoulder and tossed Lucy a mocking wink as they twitched their hip's to the heavy drum beat.

She twisted her head to the side and froze, the air left her lungs with a swiftness that terrified her, the table of Knights watched her with varying expressions. Most, good humoured and encouraging. This was not the case with Sir Elias who scowled fiercely and raked lustful leering eyes across her form, the skinny red head in his lap turned his face back to hers, he shot her one last mocking look before capturing the woman's lips with his own. Dagonet's eyes shot her one longing glance before returning to gaze into his cup of ale, her heart constricted in her chest and her eyes burned. She felt as if she had destroyed a priceless artefact. She caught Galahad's eyes as she scanned the table for the dark knight, he winked encouragingly and she was shocked to find herself grinning at him. But there was no Tristan.

"Where did you go? Oh!" Lucy stopped as she saw what had caught Aiya's attention. "Well, now we've got their attention, let's work on keeping it shall we."

"But I don't want their attention!" Aiya protested as Lucy pressed the rim of a cup to her lips, Aiya sipped and choked down the burning fire water.

"For courage!" Lucy crowed tossing back the rest of it herself. "Don't tell me you're a coward, Boon!"

Aiya fluffed at the challenge. "I'm no coward and I know very well that our dancing could hold any man's attention but perhaps I merely wish to dance for the joy it gives me," she replied.

Lucy laughed throatily. "Then let us dance for joy!" she giggled and dragged Aiya to a more secluded dancing place not totally swamped by lecherous men. Aiya, secure in the fact that Dagonet would not have to suffer the sight of her, gave herself over to the music in a way she had not done in years. Not since Rome. Not since dear sweet Aisha taught her how to dance like the bejewelled women of Arabia. She spun and swirled until she forgot even her own name, until she forgot Lucy, and Dagonet, and this cold island that was her prison.

She danced until heat and dizziness swamped her mind, she stumbled and was caught. "You seem very at home in my arms, little mouse." The hot breath huffing into her ear sent ripples across her body. Her dizzy mind told her body to turn in his embrace and snuggle against his chest.

"Everything's moving," she moaned unhappily. Harsh calloused fingers gripped her chin and lifted her gaze, everything focused as black eyes captured her gaze, she straightened and tired to push away. "Please let go of me."

"I think not, sweet, there are plenty of lecherous bastards around here just waiting for you to stumble into their grasp. Arthur would be most displeased if I ruined his celebrations by killing his soldiers." His growl did nothing to soothe her frayed nerves. "Silly chit, you've drunk enough to sink our Gawain."

"I have not!" She gasped, wriggling violently in his grasp. He grunted when she pushed hard at his stomach. "Tristan!" she pulled her hands back remembering his healing wound.

"Come," He growled grasping her thin arm and dragging her through the thick crowd and into the night streets.

"Tristan stop, please, my friends-"

"Are even drunker than you!" He rumbled. She dug her heels into the dirt and he had to stop or risk her falling face first.

"I told you before I am not drunk! I haven't had a thing in hours, it's just the dancing, I've been dancing all day and I forgot to eat." She yelped when he stopped and pulled her forward, he leaned close and sniffed. "See." She concluded from his expression that he had found no traces of the last cup of bitter liquid Lucy had poured down her throat hours ago.

"It doesn't excuse you parading your body like a harlot for all to see," he hissed.

Her tired aching body and exhausted mind refused to help her choke back the tears of humiliation brought on by his harsh words. "A-a harlot! You think me a whore, Sir Knight? Me? When it is you and your men who surround yourself with prostitutes and drown yourself in ale? When I am the virgin and you the bastard!" Through her tears she saw his expression deepen from irritation to thunderous anger. He tugged them into an alcove and pressed her body up against the wall using his own much larger frame.

"You walk a very fine line, Aiyana, do not expect me to believe that you have not used that thieving temptresses body to get your way more than once." He warned.

"I have never, and will never, use my body to get anything I do not rightfully deserve. How dare you cast aspersions on my honour when I have done naught to warrant it!" Her upset and embarrassment fuelled her anger, if she were not in such a state of emotional turmoil and physical exhaustion from constant work and heartache over the loss of her friend Dagonet she would not dared have talked to Tristan in such a manner.

"A pure little flower? Did your Da keep you fresh so that you might fetch a higher price when he put you on the market for a well bread noble husband? What would he think to see his precious girl writhing like a wanton in front of crowds?" Tristan demanded, their faces barely an inch apart.

She tossed back her head and laughed. "A noble husband for an orphaned seamstress? Why Tristan you would make a wonderful jester." She laughed bitterly through her own tears. "I would be worth little on any market, Sir Knight."

Long silent moments passed before rough fingers smoothed away her tears. "You are worth far more than you know," His gravelly voice bit out. _No, Tristan, I am worth far more than you shall ever know_. Her inner voice crowed.

"I thought I was a strumpet?" She whispered. "Or am I just a better class of whore than you're used to?"

"There's one way to find out," Swallowing painfully, she stared at the terrifying man towering above her.

"I don't want to know what you mean by that," she stammered.

The anger slid off his face and his expression turned predatory, she yelped as he tightened his hold and lifted her several inches up the wall, pinning her with the sheer force of his weight up against hers. She forced herself not to move or scream as a rough hand traced her cheekbone, down across her lips, rubbing hard enough to redden them. "Don't dance like that around other men," he rasped.

"A-all the other women were," she gulped.

"You're not like them Aiyana, do not ever pretend to be, I believe you have your honour, as you claimed. Do not give it to those unworthy." Before she could blink he captured her lips in a fierce punishing kiss, forcing his way inside her mouth with alarming speed, her arms wrapped around his shoulders as heat flashed through her entire body. He devoured her, ruthlessly plundering her mouth, demanding and taking. Her hands tangled in his hair as her mind screamed at her to fight and run. She could feel his heat everywhere, she knew his hands could crush her delicate bones if they wished, the thought thrilled her as she continued to cling to him. Moans bubbled up from her throat and the pure need in her voice shocked her into alertness.

"Stop!" She twisted her head from side to side to escape his mouth. "Please Tristan."

He stepped back and she slid to her feet, clutching the wall for support, she ducked her head to her chest as shame flushed her cheeks. "No, don't hide from me." His hand cupped her jaw and pulled her gaze back to him, he frowned when he noticed fresh tears. "How can I doubt you when I see your fear and disgust?" he released her chin and stepped back.

"No!" He paused, back already to her and turned halfway. "I-I don't...I-I'm not—I'm not afraid of you. I'm afraid to _feel_ ...when I am with you I feel such things."

His half shadowed face froze and then twisted into a mocking sneer. "Emotion has nothing to do with it, it is lust and you are cold, such ice could never please a man." She gasped at the cruel mask on his face. "You would be a terrible whore." He left her.

She stumbled back along familiar cobbled streets, too hurt, too angry, and too confused to cry. She bit her lip to hold in her screams of frustration and was shocked to find it already bleeding. How could he do this to her? How could he talk so cruelly? One minute accusing her of bedding every man who looked her way and the next demanding that she not dance near them? Calling her loose and wanton one moment and then cold and frigid the next? Expression a voracious desire to claim her to do things to her she could never imagine and then dismissing her as an unappealing bed mate! She felt as if her heart were splitting into a dozen different pieces.

"Aiya?" She whimpered as the familiar voice washed over her senses. She turned to look at the large hulking knight with angry eyes.

"Do you think me a harlot Dagonet?" She demanded. The unfurled his body from the barely he had been sitting on, he strode over to her, though she did not allow him within touching distance. "Do you? Do you think me a siren for calling you and then dashing you on the rocks?"

"What in hellfire are you talking about?" His eyes ran over her dishevelled appearance.

"Or am I a cold heartless bitch? Would I not please you at all?" She demanded again.

Dagonet lurched forward and pulled her to him. "Who has done this to you? Tell me," She shivered at his growled command and sank into his warm embrace, weeping softly into his shirt, he wrapped his arms around her shaking shoulders and held her close. "Tell me what has happened, sweetling. Please tell me if you are hurt."

She whimpered as he pulled back enough so that he might tilt her face every which way to search for injury, he hissed in fury at her split lip. "Stop, I am not hurt." She pushed feebly at his hands.

"You're bleeding," he growled.

"I bit my lip," she mumbled pressing her face into his warm chest and breathing the familiar smell of herbs and lavender. She froze when she encountered another scent, perfume, cheap perfume. She shoved away from him. "Was she good? Was she all that you need, warm and welcoming and oh so talented."

He flinched at her harsh biting words. "If I cannot have you Aiyana then I must be content with whores the rest of my days," he said brokenly. She did not call him back as he strode away, though she knew he would come if she did, she wondered how long it would be before he stopped coming back to her. It didn't matter, she had her memories, of Aisha and of blood and fire. They would sustain her through the loneliness. If coldness is what was required to repulse then she would be dead on the inside.

**Please review, i've missed you guys and it would be a lovely welcome back. xxx**


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